The Shades of Madness
by MalagBaal
Summary: This Oblivion/Shivering Isles story follows the main SI quest, but that storyline is very much in the background as a Mazken and an Auriel - beautiful, but sworn enemies - find themselves embroiled in a dangerous game of life and death. R&R.
1. Exile

_This story makes fairly extensive use of the Shivering Isles questline, but doesn't really follow it, so you won't just be reading a written quest, which would be boring for everyone involved, including me. I guess I'd also better say now that I own nothing of the Shivering Isles, Tamriel or Cyrodiil or any of the other cool things that Bethesda's writers put into place. I also make a reference to a Lost Spires item at some stage, but it's not a spoiler, just an acknowledgement. It's mostly OCs (for those new, that's Own Characters. Read, enjoy, **Review**._

**The Shades of Madness**

**Exile

* * *

**

_Bravil. It lies to the south of the centre of this land, the Imperial city. It seems to be. It compares to Crucible in the disease and filth that lies around. Perhaps the sewage system is a little better._

The waves lapped at the hull of the small wooden boat. Nerte pulled her paddle back up into the boat and watched the gateway. The door to the Shivering Isles had been forged by Sheogorath mere days before – to summon a champion from the realm of the mortals – the mortals who had so recently defeated Mehrunes Dagon. Now, because of this victory the Madgod had decided a mortal of Tamriel would also be able to foil the forces of Jyggalag and halt the Greymarch. A mortal to fight back against the forces of order. Sheogorath truly believed that this plan would work, as he had believed all his previous plans would work, the skinned hound, the Malevolent Zinj, the pit full of clowns… Another ridiculous plan from the Madgod. Nerte sighed and turned the boat around, and began to paddle back towards the town of Bravil. The towns battlements soared above the surrounding landscape, and dwarfed the surrounding ruins. Back to the sanctuary. The Assassin's guild had taken her in almost as soon as she had arrived. Tamriel was not really the safest place for a Daedra, even a Mazken, of which very few Tamrielans had ever heard. When she had first arrived and slept she had been approached by a listener of the Dark Brotherhood. She had worked for many years as a poisoner and assassin back home in the Court of Dementia and on several occasions had even worked for the Court of Madness.

The boat glid quickly across the smooth surface of the water and as the sun began to set she arrived underneath the small bridge to the south east of the town. A stone slab depicting Sithis and the Night Mother glowed on the wall at her touch and a voice hissed out of the darkness "What whispers in the Dark?"

"Sithis, Lord of the Void" she answered.

The door ground open, still working after centuries of use and the passage of thousands of lives. The passage before her was lit by torches on the walls and the damp tunnel was dripping slightly. She sidled down along it confidently, yet silently. Their resident Dark Guardian had a foul sense of humour and would leap on anyone not paying care to remain silent. Movement ahead of her… Lenoche she thought to herself. The Voidgazer spell took effect almost instantly, and the vague shadow took form into the shape of the sanctuary's master Kenreeve. His smile showed that he had already spotted her. "Your armour" he said, holding up the magical raiment she had received on arrival in the brotherhood. When out on a contract she was supposed to wear her Brotherhood armour at all times. But it was so – extensive… She was used to her Mazken armour still, after all this time. It had been so perfectly fitting, giving so much freedom, manoeuvrability, and agility and yet providing such protection. Moulded by Sheogorath himself. She had found a light, short leather dress that felt much the same – but offered very little protection.

"Nevertheless, my Sister," he continued "the contract was completed, and according to specifications." He stopped talking again and grinned. "I think you will like your reward." He walked forwards and held out two sheathed daggers. She took them from him, and drew one of them from its sheath. The black blade shimmered in the light. It was a pair of Mazken daggers, almost identical to those she had used before her exile.

"How did you get these?" she asked, amazed.

"Took a little stroll into the Shivering Isles" he said. "Found a Dark Seducer with these on her, killed her and took the knives. 'Course she's not really dead." He said. "Immortals, all that. She'll just wake up at the wellspring, right?"

"Yes, that's right. Could you say 'Mazken' though?" said Nerte, distractedly, still not quite believing that the daggers were real. She looked up. "What about the Gates of Madness – the Gatekeeper?"

"Already dead" he said. "Bit odd really…"

"Dead… how?" she asked, shocked. The Gatekeeper was extremely powerful, seemingly indestructible. Forged in the Gardens of Flesh and Bone, and bound with the sorcery of (Check), the Gatekeeper was the most formidable foe in all the Isles.

"No idea. There was this creepy little bald fella though – Vanished when I tried to stab him…"

Nerte mentally rolled her eyes. "You tried to stab Haskill?"

"Yeah, well, he was really, really annoying – and that outfit was just asking for a slash…" he stopped talking for a moment again. "Anyway, do you want your next contract now, or later?" He took one look at her face and then continued "Now, I guess. Ok, there's this woman who's new in town. Sort of goldish skin, tall, funny eyes… She's joined the Fighters guild and is working with the Town Guard to track us down. She's been a right pain too, cause she's really good at what she does, so the Brotherhood would consider it a real favour if you got rid of her for us."

"What's her name, and where can I find her?" she asked him.

Adriana glared across at the entrance to the Shivering Isles from Eastern shore of the lake. The gateway seemed so near, and yet her homeland was so far away. That had been until her humiliating exile to this backwards land. This country was possibly comparable to Dementia, although perhaps that was stretching it a little. Nevertheless she had already achieved a name for herself here – as a champion of the Fighters Guild. Bravil's fighters guild seemed mostly to be chasing off creatures from around the town – work perhaps better fitted for Mazken, but work nevertheless. Her voice, height and eyes had been questioned, but she'd passed it off with extremely strange family lineage, High Elf, Kajiit and a touch of something else. Of course, no-one believed it, but no-one really dared question it. Her steel armour and blade were not things that many questioned. At least, never twice. A steel clad fist in the face and a broken jaw later it would be as if the discussion had never taken place. These thoughts almost made her smile, an incredible feat for a Golden Saint.

She turned and made her way back to the town. The guard shuffled his feet a little nervously as she passed.

"Afternoon" he said.

She nodded to him and continued across the narrow wooden swinging bridge. The Bravil fighters guild was a small building to the north of the city. Even before she stepped through the door the sound of weapons clashing on wooden practice dummies and even against each other's shields could be heard. Since she had become head of the Bravil fighters guild the Blackwood company had become less of a problem, as her men worked longer, harder, and better than under any other previous champion.

As she stepped through Nirna looked up. The thin Dark Elf was the major organiser behind the Bravil fighters guild, while Adriana mostly did all the heavy work. "New eyewitness reports on the assassins." she said. Adriana quickly concentrated and asked "Do we know where their sanctuary is yet?"

"Yes." Adriana was about to shout to her men to come when she looked at Nirna's face again. "What is the problem?" she asked. Of course, Nirna would have many problems with her take-it-as-it-comes tactics, but that's the way things worked around here.

"Well, you certainly won't like it. We need to catch one of them alive"

Adriana's eyes narrowed. "Why?" she asked "We don't need help from assassin filth."

"We need a password."


	2. Tracking and Trailing

**Trailing and Tracking**

_The Shivering Isles are a realm split between the two Shades of Madness of its lord and master, the Madgod Sheogorath. A realm with more internal feuds than a snake pit. The major players are the Mazken and the Auriel, more commonly known as Dark Seducers and Golden Saints. These two groups detest each other on the whole. However, it is as our Lord Sheogorath wills it to be._

* * *

Nerte crept silently towards the Fighters Guild. The guild was a tiny little place, with very limited access, the front door, and a number of windows. _Aberta _she thought, thrusting her hand towards a high up window. She heard a quiet click as the window unlocked and swung ajar slightly. Footsteps coming up behind her signalled someone's approach. She ducked into the shadows in a nook of the building. A chameleon spell helped her to blend into the wall. The footsteps passed and she saw a Bravil Town Guard passing in the street, his torch held high, and sweeping it from side to side. The town guard always seemed to be on high alert these days. You see, unlike Cheydinhall the count had not simply given up and allowed the Assassins Guild to operate unhindered. Like Skingraad, (the count there had driven them out within days…) this town was fighting back. She watched as he moved away and then moved back out onto the dark street. She threw a grapple up onto the windowsill and then pulled herself up onto the windowsill. She balanced there for a moment and then dropped down onto the ground. _Lenoche… _The shadows brightened as the spell took effect once again. The heat signatures of several members of the guild took shape. Two beds directly in front of her… an orc, an elf… she looked around and moved out the open door into the hall. The next two were on the next level down. She crept down the stairs, and tried to avoid making the stairs creak. Something was wrong here, it was all too quiet… She crept to the next beds, another two, a Dark Elf and another Orc. The dark elf shifted, seemingly in her sleep, and then sat up partially. She looked around the room, saw nothing and then lay back down. Nerte slid round the door from the corner which she'd huddled into and then moved on, to the last room… this had to be her… She slipped down to the last sleeper, and saw that here was a Redguard.

Suddenly, the door burst open. Light flooded into the building. She looked around for somewhere to hide, but it was too late. A massive figure clad in steel armour burst in silhouetted in the blinding light of a spell, followed by two others from the fighters guild and a hoard of Town Guard. Surrounded Nerte realised she'd been trapped. She'd been followed. She looked at the face of the leader of the group. She almost snarled. An Auriel? Here? This must be Adriana she thought.

* * *

Adriana, Argust and a new recruit named Kelvin sat outside the town, watching the doorway to the Assassin's guild. This was the third day they had waited, waiting for something to happen, but it never really happening. Perhaps today, an assassin would reveal himself, thought Adriana. The moon was up, and it was a very bright night, on the whole. A few days till full moon… Suddenly the doorway appeared, an almost fake appearing glowing etching into the side of the arch of the bridge.

The doorway opened and a shadowy figure appeared through the doorway. Adriana lost sight of the assassin twice, the black armour and perhaps a chameleon spell blending it into the background of the Bravil night. However, they spotted the Assassin just as he was going over a wall. They followed, through the gate, and caught sight of him again, just as he came to a stop near the fighters guild. They watched as he slipped into the shadows as a guard passed, and then went through a top story window.

"Alright" said Adriana, "Kelvin, go alert the town guard. Get a bunch of them. I want him surrounded, so there's no chance of him getting out, even if he's really good. Make sure a couple of people can do a basic life detect spell for if he goes invisible. Make it quick, too. He's after one of our people."

Kelvin raced off. _Sensivus _she thought. The spell showed her the life inside the fighters guild, insects running around, the sleeping fighters guild, and one larger shape sneaking around between them. "Who is he after?" she asked herself. It seemed likely he was after her, if he was coming to the fighter's guild. She had been causing the Assassins guild a lot of trouble recently. Anyway, she thought, as the guards arrived, now we'll find out… Her eyes narrowed and she turned to the men. "Ok, we have an assassin in there from the Dark Brotherhood." Some of the guards looked a little nervous suddenly. "Whatever you do do not let him out, and we need him alive." Several of the guards looked a little like they wondering who would be the most dangerous to cross, Adriana or the Dark Brotherhood. Evidently they decided she was the more evident threat, for they straightened rank and waited. "So soldiers, let's go."

And with that she drew her sword and charged. "Illuminatum!" she shouted. A blinding light burst forth in the air around her as she crashed through the door. And there stood the assassin. A she. She cringed momentarily in the light, and then stood. The hood hid most of her face, but her brilliant blue eyes could still be seen. And they were those of a Mazken. A Mazken. Here. And not just any Mazken. This was that traitorous scum, Nerte.


	3. Chase in the Dark

**Chase in the Dark**

* * *

_Despite my scepticism today the mortal arrived at the palace. I let him through the gate, explained the deal to him and he went on to promptly kill the Gatekeeper. Two days later he arrived in New Sheoth. So far Sheogorath's plan is running quite smoothly. However, the 'champion' is so dense it seems unlikely that he'll make it to Xedillian, let alone make it through it… _

The flat side of Adriana's sword crashed down where Nerte's head had been seconds before. Nerte drew her daggers and blocked the next blow between the two of them. For a second Adriana was off guard, and Nerte took the opportunity. _Telemobierte! _She thought and smashed a window remotely. Even as the guards closed in to block the window she dived through it. She dropped lightly to the ground and ran. She shoved the daggers back into their holders, and threw her grapple up onto the roof of a nearby shop. The grapple caught in the gutter and she hauled herself up. She heard angry shouting behind her, and the pounding of feet.

"Up there, look, on the roof!" she heard someone shout. Even as she dropped low she heard the clatter of arrows narrowly missing her. Then Adriana arrived on the scene. The most powerful lightning spell she'd ever seen whizzed past her. The tree it hit smoked, and then burst into flame, electricity running in a blue bolt down the trunk and earthing itself in the moist ground of Bravil. Nerte dropped down behind the shop, and ran behind the buildings. She scrambled and half jumped down the steep bank, to the river, and into the water. She dived beneath the surface, and swam underwater. Behind her the water was zapped with another blast from Adriana's fingertips. _Aire _She thought. She breathed in deep, and the water filled her lungs. For a second unbelievable pain and every fibre of her body wanted her to cough. But then, the last free air left her lungs and she could breathe. She could breathe the water as freely as the air now. Here she would wait, until the hunt was called off.

Adriana watched as Nerte dived beneath the river surface. She cast one last lightning spell, in the vain hope that it might stun her. A slaughterfish rose to the surface, but nothing else. "Get every Argonian you can find. Arm them if you like. Catch her!" she ordered. Within minutes these waters would be swarming with Argonians and they would have her. Beneath the surface nothing could rival an Argonian regardless of how skilled it was. Except, perhaps, a Grimmite. Or a Scalon. Then again, she thought, even a Baliwog has a nasty bite. Compared to the Isles Cyrodill was a safe and harmless realm. Several minutes later a group of the lizard like Argonians had assembled. "vot iz ze problem?" asked the Argonian, City Swimmer. She glared at Adriana, not really liking being woken up in the middle of the night by a group of loud, nasty looking town guard. She held up the club she'd been given "And vot are zees for?"

"We have an assassin of the Dark Brotherhood trapped down there below the surface somewhere." She paused to let this sink in. "we need her caught alive. Then we will finally be able to get rid of the direct influence of the Assassins Guild in our town." The Argonians looked mutinous, but on the whole they wanted the assassin presence out of the town as much as anyone. Well, sometimes that is. Argonians tend towards becoming Assassins more than most other races. They are a naturally sneaky race, and will stab you in the back in preference to an open fight any day thought Adriana.

"You expect uz to go in zere and rizk our lives for you…"

Adriana stepped forwards, and straightened fully and glared down at her. A good two heads taller than the Argonian, City Swimmer stepped back quickly. "Zo, you give me a choice, fight you, or fight an assassin, right?" Adriana said nothing, but fingered her sword rather meaningfully and didn't take her eyes of City Swimmer's. "Ok, Ok, here ve go. Come on everybody. She can't uz all at once." And with that the Argonians lept into the water.

The curses of Jyggalag upon you, Adriana! Thought Nerte as she heard the splashes and saw the vaguely reptilian shapes dive into the water. Argonians! And lots of them. There was no way she could fight them all off. She would have to run again. She swam for the nearest bank and pulled herself up as quickly as possible. "Aberte!" she shouted out loud. The city water gate creaked open. _Aguaobre _she thought, and lept onto the surface of the water. Her feet sank through momentarily, and then bounced back up to the surface, like landing on the elastic surface of a spring surface. The water rippled behind her, and an Argonian burst out of the water, catching her ankle. She fell to the water surface, but as she went to pull away her fingers broke the surface and found no hold. She lashed out with her other leg, and caught him in the face. He lost his grip on her other ankle, and then she was up and running again. She wasn't even looking where she was running, but suddenly the island entrance to the Shivering Isles loomed up in front of her, the massive three sided face grinning, frowning and gaping at her all at once, and the brilliant blue portal beckoning for her. She ran up the path out of the water, and onto dry land. She looked around behind her. The Argonians were about halfway across the gap between her and the Island. They wouldn't follow her anyway. But was the risk worth it? If Haskill revealed her return to his master, Sheogorath she would most likely be exiled to a far worse place than Tamriel… The Argonians were almost here now… Adriana had started out for the island with a group of her men in a small boat. She made up her mind. She lept through the portal.

Adriana glared at the gateway in front of her. If she entered she would almost certainly be punished, and more severely this time. But she would catch Nerte now, now she had her within her grasp. She turned to her men, and said "None of you should follow, but anyone who wants to come can come." The response all round was much the same. No-one answered. No-one wanted to enter the portal, to return, mad, as so many others had already. She turned her back to them, and took a deep breath. This was for her revenge, for her humiliation, for her exile. She stepped through the portal, and vanished in a blaze of blue.

.


	4. The Fringe

**The Fringe**

* * *

_The Fringe. The first of many challenges for those wishing to enter the Isles. One of my many jobs is the chauffeuring of imbeciles into the land and explaining where they were, and why they were there. This is, on the whole, a long and tedious process, and can be intensely frustrating. Nevertheless, it must be done. The Butterfly room, as many call it, where one first arrives in the isles is a kind of unstable realm of Oblivion, outside the normal time space, between the Mangus and the Isles. In creating this 'realm' shall we call it, Sheogorath appointed me considerable power, much as if I were the 'Prince' of this realm. As such, nothing that arrives through the gate can really pose a problem. If I deem it unfit, it returns. If not, it may continue._

* * *

Nerte fell though the portal, losing her balance, and knocking over a chair. The room was very dark, but her eyes were already accustomed to the night, and so it took only a few seconds before she could see it properly. A metronome in the shape of a grinning face ticked backwards and forwards. She pushed off from the ground and looked over the table. Haskill raised his eyebrows momentarily in surprise and then shook his head. "What are you doing here now?" he asked.

"Haskill, look, we used to be friends, right?" This was not really true, but then again, Haskill didn't really have any friends.

"In a manner." He replied. "At least, until you questioned the will of your lord, Sheogorath."

"But, you doubt his judgement too – I've seen it"

"Of course. He is the Madgod. What is he for, but to doubt? I do not, however, question his will openly, nor publicly as you did. That was a grave error on your part."

"Alright, fine" she answered him hurriedly "Just hide me for a little, would you?"

"Hide you?" he asked incredulously "The master of the night?" he said sarcastically. "From what?"

His question was answered almost instantly. The blue portal flared up again in front of him, and Adriana burst through. She spotted Nerte, who had backed off, and drawn her daggers again, and went to draw her blade. Haskill, who'd backed off remembered himself and raised his hand. Time froze for Adriana, who appeared simply to stop moving, at least for the other two in the room, Nerte and Haskill. "What are you going to do with her?" she asked.

"I don't really know yet" he answered. "I'm not really sure what I'm going to do with either of you yet…" He stopped, thinking. He couldn't afford simply to let either of them go, back to Mangus, or on through the now unguarded Fringe into the Isles. However, another idea was beginning to form in his mind. It was true that as far as Dark Seducers went Nerte had been one of those that had been most likeable. However, Adriana was another matter. She had always been particularly involved in the war between the Mazken and the Auriel. Why she had been pursuing Nerte was easily enough explained. Nerte had been her reason for banishment. In the bizarre mind of Sheogorath the forces of the Mazken and the Auriel had always been perfectly balanced, so that neither side could ever have a decisive victory over the other. On the particular day that he had exiled Nerte he had decided that if a Mazken was banished, an Auriel must also be banished. This was something that Nerte must know, as no doubt she had no idea why she was being pursued anyway. He explained this to her. "So it is my fault that she was exiled?" she asked slowly.

"In a way… you must remember that in many ways it is Lord Sheogorath's 'fault' and that she should not question him any more than you should have. But that is the general idea."

He sighed and turned away from her, and sat down again. The metronome continued its steady motion, from one side to the other. Its ticking filled the room. Nerte noticed it properly for the first time. "Isn't that a time keeper – an object of Order?"

"Hmm… Oh, yes. You would be surprised just how much of Sheogorath's magic is also that of Order." A lot more than he would like to admit thought Haskill. "Very few know the true nature of Sheogorath" he continued.

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Nerte.

"It means that when Jyggalag walks Sheogorath is no more. Oh, never mind" he added, seeing the slightly confused and annoyed look on Nerte's face. "Now, despite everything I think that I may possibly not refer you to Sheogorath straight away."

Nerte waited, looking more and more impatient. Haskill was drawing this out as long as possible now. The old man looked up at her again. "Sheogorath's plan has but one major flaw." He paused again, as though trying to think of a way to re-word what he was going to say. He evidently failed. "The 'champion' is an idiot. He's not even going to make it to Xedillian, let alone through it."

"Hang on, I think I know what you're getting at now" said Nerte. "You're going to ask me to guide him along. Push him in the right direction, help with the fighting."

"Yes, and make sure he doesn't get lost" Haskill stopped talking again, and turned back to Adriana. "I also want her to go along with you" he said. "Don't look like that, she'll understand things better soon. She is one of the greatest warriors of the Isles. A great asset if the enemy can't be killed with a knife." He ignored the disbelief on Nerte's face. "I know how you feel about it, but I feel that you will need her before the end."

"Does Sheogorath's plan truly have a chance of succeeding?" she asked him suddenly as he turned from her to Adriana.

"It seems… unlikely" he answered simply and then waved one hand. Adriana went to finish the motion of drawing her sword, while at the same time behind him Nerte dropped out of time space, freezing, as had Adriana. Adriana now found herself clasping at empty air. The sword was simply gone. She looked up angrily and raised her fists. Her hands froze in mid air as if caught in an invisible pair of manacles. She glared at him, and then stopped struggling. "Release me now, Haskill or I'll…"

"Or you'll what?" asked Haskill, almost sarcastically. "Struggle harder?"

She stopped, and asked "So, what is it you want then? You hold me here, Nerte before me, tantalisingly close, yet out of reach. What business is it of yours?"

Haskill sighed, and then, as if talking to someone who didn't understand the language replied: "It is not simply my business that makes me hold you, but your own as well. You must understand, that while yes, from one perspective it is her fault you were exiled that there is only one way that the madness of Sheogorath will allow you to be reinstated. If Nerte were to return to favour so would you, as her counterpart in exile. Your fate is directly bound to hers. If she dies you will never have a chance to re-claim what you lost."

"So what is it you want?" she demanded.

"I want you to aid Sheogorath's champion. He is capable of doing what is required of him, however, he will need all the help he can be given. Sheogorath does not believe it right for him to be aided in any way, so he is ready for the final tasks." Haskill paused. "I am risking even my own position in aiding him. I am doing this beneath our Lord's very nose. What he misses will not harm him, or anyone else for that matter, but if he were to find out what I was doing…" he took a deep breath. "The consequences of crossing the Prince of Madness are numerous and all unpleasant – for all involved, including both of you now. So, do you understand? To help yourself, whatever happens, Nerte must not die. And to save the Isles the Champion must succeed… at all costs." He shook his head. "I don't want to see another Greymarch spread across this land." He looked directly into her golden, cat like eyes. "Do you?"


	5. Greymarch

**Greymarch**

* * *

_The Greymarch is the term used to describe the cyclic invasion by the forces of Order. This occurs once every Age of the Isles, and each time Sheogorath must 'pick up the pieces'. And there are always a lot of pieces. He is left as the Madgod, ruler of a broken realm, which must be reforged, only to be broken once again, at the end of the next Age. Few live through such a slaughter, as the realm is turned to stone, and all beauty and life and the vitality of Madness is sucked from it. Only the Daedra survive, and only just._

* * *

Adriana remembered the Greymarch alright. She had already lived through one such occurrence, and that had been enough for her. It had begun in the Fringe, and had spread from their like a plague. Battle after battle was fought, the Mazken and the Auriel setting aside their feudal nature and joining forces. Every time, the forces of Order emerged victorious, but she and her race would be re-born again and again at the Wellspring to continue fighting, with only the faintest hope left in their hearts. And then Sheogorath disappeared, as according to the older members of his race he always had. Just in time for Jyggalag to walk. He led the forces of Order and crushed the forces in New Sheoth. And then, when the Mazken had suddenly been petrified as their wellspring was covered in Order Crystals they knew it was near the end.

* * *

The end had come, and they had taken a last stand against Order, in their fortress and sanctuary in the Isles.But Order had overrun them, even here. The wellspring had begun to crystallize, and so had her fellow Auriel. The Knights of Order broke through their ranks, and the priests had contaminated the Wellspring. She had felt nothing more, but the pain of Order running throughout her veins for weeks, months, perhaps years before Sheogorath had finally been able to re-claim the realm, and release them from the endless paralysis. They had been reinstated to their positions in a new New Sheoth, in a new part of the land, as the Madgod forgot its previous location, in the present city of Cylarne, city of the Cold Flame of Agnon.

Adriana shuddered. Haskill watched, somewhat surprised at this sudden gap in her armour. She will help, he thought.

And now it could happen again she thought. Of course she would help to stop the horror of Jyggalag, and his monstrous Greymarch.

"Is there really any hope of stopping the Greymarch?" she demanded of him. "If I do this will the Madgod's plan even succeed?"

"Of course" he answered her untruthfully after a moments thought. "There is always hope." Adriana would need all the encouragement, and persuasion she could be given for her to do this.


	6. Xedillian

**Xedillian**

* * *

_The ancient ruined city of Xedillian stretches for some miles through the land of Dementia. Sheogorath has described it on many occasions as his 'mousetrap', and it is as such that it functions. However, in recent years it has broken down into disrepair, after the creation of the Gatekeeper, which has guarded the Gates of Madness. Now, after the Champion defeated the Gatekeeper a new line of defence must be set up for the Isles. The first part of this defence is Xedillian. As has already been said though, it is no longer in use, and quickly it became a Grummite lair. Now there is little recognisable in the place, and the focus crystals that originally powered it have become objects of religious significance to the local Grimmite tribe._

* * *

Nerte pushed open the massive door cautiously. After being left as a Grummite lair for such a length of time, there could be any number of traps set up to swing, whistle or bang. Usually, such traps were crude, and easy to spot, but on occasions, the more ingenious Grummite realised that if they could see the traps they set up, than, hey, so could everyone else. However, as it turned out the only booby trap was a single swinging ball attached to a simple tripwire, which was as plain as anything to see. If the tripwire didn't make you wonder, than the large spiky thing hanging from the ceiling certainly should. Adriana glared down the dark stairway, and then strode inside, confidently stepping over the tripwire. Nerte, who had been lurking somewhere near Adriana's shoulder slipped in behind her, and cast the Voidgazer spell, Lenoche and instantly became aware of the scale and detail of this place. It had obviously once been a major centre in to have warranted such construction work. She also noticed several purplish life signs moving around a few rooms ahead of them. She grabbed Adriana's arm, making her stop, to turn around. Adriana turned, and yanked her arm away; she went to draw her sword, but then, apparently thought better of it.

"What?" she spat out.

"Up ahead" said Nerte quietly. "Three Grummites. We need to do this quietly, or we're going to have the entire lair down upon us. Right?"

"What we need to do is run in their and slice them up" growled Adriana. "Illuminatum!" She shouted, and rushed out of the room through the metal door and into the next.

Nerte kept pace with her, silently keeping to the shadows, fuming to herself. She was staying out of sight for now. If Adriana wanted to get herself killed that was her own problem. Her mission involved finding the Champion, and staying under the radar. She didn't want to end up in Malacath's, or Dagon's realms, which would most likely happen once Sheogorath detected her presence. Ahead of her Adriana slid to a stop. She could see what the problem was. A metal grating hung down in front of her, blocking the path ahead. Even as Nerte turned around, seeing the trap for what it was, a second metal grating slammed down behind her. Oh, great she thought.

She said as much to Adriana, except in a few more words, while Adriana almost completely ignored her. Death thought Adriana. The massively powerful lighting spell she had used two days ago now against Nerte surged once again from her fingers. She had created it herself, and it was simple. She had to think only of what the spell was intended for. Death… However, the spell did not affect the metal bars. They smoked at one point, but more than likely that was a piece of mould or moss growing up and down the bars, and not her spell at all. The energy was simply earthing itself into the ground before it could do any damage. She tried it one last time, before thinking to herself, sensivus. The spell showed her very little, only Nerte, who was slinking around in the shadows. She turned to Nerte and asked whether or not she could still see the three Grummites.

"Of course I can" answered Nerte angrily. "You blundering Saint, look what you've led us into…"

"Where are they now?" cut in Adriana loudly, shouting over Nerte's complaint.

"Moving away down that way, only there's only two of them now, one of them can either teleport, can move really quickly or he's dead." She pointed in the general direction they were moving in. "Hang on, now there's only one left… They must be fighting…" She got back onto the topic of blundering Saints around here, and suggested rudely that next time, they do it the quiet way. Adriana banged and rattled the bars for a moment before clunking down onto the ground, the screech of her steel armour on stone echoing around the passages. Nerte moved over to the bars, and examined them. (And no, it was not just a matter of leverage.) It didn't even seem to be Grummite handiwork, so the trap had been set by the builders of Xedillian. And it was only just going off now. Very strange. Xedillian hadn't even been in operation for years… Oh no, she thought. An idea had popped into her head, that suddenly had her very worried.

Xedillian was operational again… She turned to Adriana, who was still sitting on the cold hard stone. "We were too late." She said. She turned away, and looked at one of the rock walls of the passage. The last adventurer was making his way through a passage, or a long room, or at least, so it seemed.

"What is that supposed to mean?" demanded Adriana.

"The champion's already been here, and he's activated the system. We're caught in the trap that was set up to catch adventurers, before releasing them into the testing chambers."


	7. The Chambers

**The Chambers**

* * *

_A masterpiece of engineering, the blend of Mushroom Tree spores and the essence of Madness combine within the testing chambers of Xedillian. This mix is a potent combination and within each of the three chambers the adventurers must face a challenge from the realm of Mania or from the realm of Dementia. These challenges are each completely different and the caretaker decides which of the two challenges will face adventurers as they journey through the darkness of Xedillian._

* * *

Adriana raised her eyebrows. "Testing chambers?" she repeated. "What's with that, then?" She glared at Nerte accusingly as if she hadn't told her anything.

Of course, she had a point, but what could Nerte do about it? _After all_, thought Nerte defensively, _I'd only just figured it out myself._ "This place used to be like the Fringe. Adventurers were lured here and if they were worthy they survived, if not, they died."

"So, all we have to do is fight our way through?" asked Adriana. "That shouldn't be too hard," she added, almost happily. _Could almost be fun…_

"Well, sort of…" replied Nerte. She noticed out of the corner of her eye that the last of the life signs had faded away. And in front of her, the metal grate began to rise.

It disappeared into a dark slot in the ceiling and they were free to leave. Well, they were free to walk into the long dark passage before them. Nerte didn't actually know what the testing chambers contained. However, she doubted that they would be pleasant.

Adriana stode forward from the passage, her _Illuminatum_ spell glowing brighter and lighting up the entire next chamber when they entered, almost blinding Nerte, who's _Voidgazer_ spell was not supposed to be used during such bright conditions. She mentally shrugged the spell off and, in the bright white light emanating from Adriana, she could see a tiny little gnarl sitting in the centre of the room. It looked almost pathetic. Adriana drew her sword and headed out towards it.

"Hang on…" said Nerte.

"What this time?" demanded Adriana.

"Well, obviously that can't be it. Look, hit it with your lightning spell." Nerte watched as Adriana held out her hand and blasted the gnarl clear across the room, with a slight squeal and the sound of splitting wood.

Adriana turned round to her "See," she said. "Just what it looked like, a runty gnarl." She turned around, and her eyes narrowed. She looked across the room. A swarm of the tiny gnarls was gathering, and they had appeared to appear out of thin air. She frowned. The frown deepened as more and more of the small creatures appeared. Behind her Nerte vanished, an invisibility spell taking effect. Adriana looked around. Coward, she snarled mentally. She drew her sword, and her light spell flashed blindingly. As the gnarls staggered back momentarily she charged in among them, swinging her sword backwards and forwards. It crashed against unyielding wooden skins, barely harming them. They recovered from their initial shock of the bright light, and set upon her. She crashed a hole back into the group, and stepped back into it. Death she screamed in her head. The lightning spell thrust forward, scything into the group of tiny gnarls, and throwing several of them violently across the room. And then the gap closed in again, so quickly it was unbelievable.

Nerte turned back to the fight. The rooms edges were blurred, and the gnarls were simply a blur of moving brown. Adriana, a silver figure in the centre whirled, and wood could be heard splintering, although it was a muted sound. The Shadow Step spell threw her under a blanket of invisibility, which did however, dampen her perceptions of the outside world. She drew here Mazken daggers and stepped confidently back towards the battlefield. The invisibility spell dropped away from her as soon as she entered into combat. Combat began in the form of a knife in a gnarls back. The small wooden creature fell to the ground, but was replaced with another. Adriana saw her re-appear and there was a look of surprise on her face. Then the gnarls spotted her, and a group of them broke off from around Adriana and attacked her. However, despite her Mazken daggers which sliced through their wood so easily she was outnumbered and outmatched.

Adriana saw Nerte re-appear, and was amazed. She hadn't expected the Mazken to remain in the fight, but for her to flee back the way they had come, and wait to make her escape when the gate lifted for the next group of unwitting adventurers to be trapped by this place. Now she had re-appeared, but was obviously going to be brought down  
before the last gnarl had fallen. Death rang out in her head, once again, as another blue energy bolt streamed across the room. They had nearly won. Only two or three of the small creatures remained. She saw Nerte stagger, and drop to her knees, one dagger flung from her hand, the other stuck in the wood of a Gnarl. One of the Gnarls stepped up  
to finish her off…

Nerte watched as the Gnarl raised a wooden fist above her head. She dodged sideways, but too slowly and the blow fell on her shoulder, the light armour deflecting little of the blow. Her shoulder seemed to be broken, and she steadied herself on her remaining arm. The Gnarl loomed over her and its head broke into an evil grinning look of triumph… and vanished. The head catapulted across the room with the creak and snappings of splintering wood… and the Gnarl tumbled over. Adriana stood in its place, and spun around and cast one last lightning spell. The spell shot across the room, and stopped the last Gnarl in its tracks.

Adriana had considered leaving Nerte to her fate. However, what Haskill had said remained in her mind, a constant shadow. Your fate is directly bound to hers. If she dies you will never have a chance to re-claim what you lost… If what Haskill said was true, than for her own sake Nerte must survive. And besides, Nerte had come to her aid, despite the knowledge that she would not be able to hold her own in such a battle. So, now she had saved her bane, and not for the last time, no doubt. Her light had dimmed during the battle. It brightened again as she concentrated on it. She held out a hand towards Nerte, and the bluish flowing glow of a healing spell soaked into the broken shoulder bone, and the arm that had been damaged beneath it.

"It will need treatment ever few hours," said Adriana to her, as Nerte carefully felt her shoulder. "And even then it'll probably be several days before it's completely healed." Nerte pulled herself to her feet, and gathered up her daggers, clumsily holstering them into their sheaths single handedly. "You won't need it wrapped or anything equally stupid will you?" asked Adriana. Nerte shook her head. The pain was nothing, partly due to the numbing quality of a healing spell such as the one Adriana used, and partly due to her tough Mazken physiology.

She stood upright, shook her head, trying to clear it and, almost tripping over a gnarl, followed in Adriana's wake. There were several more corridors leading off the first, but only one of them was clear. The two other corridors in the room were blocked by massive black, twisted roots, impenetrable to any. The corridor opened up into another large chamber. An immense staircase led to a massive cage, which was filled with a horde of treasure. They walked up the stairs, and looked at it. Adrian raised her eyebrows, while Nerte just frowned. "And what's this supposed to test?" She asked. Behind them there was a clinging noise, and they turned around. A pile of keys had appeared on the ground behind them, apparently having dropped from the ceiling. "Stupidity" replied Adriana, and stepped down over the keys. Nerte paused for a moment in front of the keys, and then followed. She hurried to try and keep up with Adriana's long strides, but her shoulder was slowing her down. She looked ahead, but before she could reach the next room the bright light of Adriana vanished, and Nerte was thrust into darkness. It was as if a blanket had been thrown over her, and yet without a sound.

Lenoche she thought silently, and as quietly as she could she made her way towards where Adriana's light had vanished. Darkness dissolved away into shadows, and then into a grey, muted light, the light of the Voidgazer. Almost as soon as she entered the room she spotted Adriana. She was standing almost in the dead centre of the room – dead centre being quite accurate in this case – as the dungeon's decorations seemed to consist almost entirely of rotted corpses, some hanging on the walls, others scattered across the floor. Adriana was muttering to herself, turning around, with quite a desperate look on her face. "What's up?" asked Nerte "Lights going out, running up ahead like that…" She stopped momentarily, and caught a whisper of what Adriana was saying. "Dead? Me? How…"

At that moment Nerte herself felt a sharp pain around the back of her neck, and momentarily blacked out. She woke up, and stood up, and looked around the dark room once more. Still Adriana stood in the same place, still apparently trapped in some kind of illusion… Nerte looked down at the ground and almost jumped in surprise. Her own body lay seemingly on the ground beside her, her face pale, and her eyes open and staring. And yet, it didn't feel right. She wasn't dead. It hadn't happened. Not really. An illusion spell, of some kind she thought. And then, with all her strength she sought to throw the illusion from her mind. She felt something shift, a tendril within her mind which had burrowed in, piercing her outer defences like a wisp of cloud through a chink of armour. And now she could almost see it. As an assassin she had trained to fight back such invasions on her mind, for many years in Syl's court. Syl could not afford her chief assassin being taken over by an outsider, and even being used against her. She mentally grasped the illusion, and ripped it away. Her body on the ground beside her vanished, and her skin lost its cloudy see-through quality and darkened to the skin of a Mazken even as she watched. Adriana, however, beside her had not had not had the training she had had. She had never been prepared for an attack of this kind, one that she could not fight off with a sword and a steady arm.

She moved over to her and placed a hand on her arm. "What's that?" asked Adriana, looking around as though she couldn't even see Nerte. Perhaps she couldn't. Nerte had been able to see through this illusion almost instantly, while Adriana had been trapped within it for a longer time, and must have been becoming more and more desperate. This trap had been set to break the hardest of warriors – perhaps more of a challenge than the gnarls had been for her.

Adriana would not be able to pull herself out of this on her own… If she chose to rescue her she would have to literally enter Adriana's mind to pull her out. She thought momentarily simply of leaving the Saint, as she had thus far proved troublesome beyond belief… However, she also remembered what Haskill had said: I feel that you will need her before the end…

She braced herself for the clash of minds and then stepped towards the Auriel. She held out her hand, palm first and concentrated. A wisp of purplish cloud left her palm, and then a purple glow and the cloud reached out towards Adriana's head. The bond made contact, and then began to solidify. Nerte took a deep breath and plunged her mind within that of the Auriel.


	8. The Divide… Breached

** The Divide… Breached**

* * *

_The Mazken and the Auriel were created by Sheogorath to be the guardians of the distinct split in his personality, bordering at the extremes of Madness. Thus he created them to be distinctly different, each group suited to guard the realm that they were placed in. The Mazken are on the whole a subtle race, preferring to knife their enemies in the back than face them in open combat. The Auriel, by contrast were created about as subtle as the average sledge hammer. Extremely ingenious on the battlefield, and masterful tacticians, they are, however, almost always unable to think outside the box, and when faced with a new challenge, can often not overcome it. Hence, these two groups have extremely different minds which clash, often violently, when brought into close proximity._

* * *

Nerte examined Adriana's mind from as close as she dared. The great pulsing white presence dominated her senses, layer after layer of thoughts and protections. As a being within Adriana's mind she had limited power at best and, if she stayed too near, she would meld with Adriana's thoughts and would not be able to pull loose. She would have to live life trapped within this quickly disintegrating mind. Even as she watched, dark shadows began to grow around what most who understood this form of magic recognised as the soul. She spun around, searching for the intruding tendril. Time after time she thought she sensed something out of the ordinary but in reality it was nothing, merely an extension of Adriana's growing madness.

She moved in closer, and tried to make contact with glowing mass. _Adriana… _The thought echoed around. Surely she had heard that…

_Who's that? What's going on?_ came back a weak thought.

_Nerte… _She sent an image of herself to her. _You are Adriana… _

_Nerte… Adriana… familiar…_ there was a long pause after this, as though she was trying to gather what left of her thoughts _Dead… too…? _

_No-one is dead, _she sent back fiercely. _You are strong… but caught in an illusion… Powerful spell – you must overthrow it yourself…_

Adriana apparently caught the note of urgency in her voice. She seemed to concentrate further. _Illusion?_

_Yes... powerful illusion…_ She waited to see what Adriana would think back and eventually the reply came once again.

_ How… What must I do? _

This was possibly going to be easier than she had imagined. She just had to hope Adriana would hold the thought until she could work out a way to guide her to the illusion within her own mind. It had taken her years of practice to first pull it off and be able to recognise, and remove, an illusion from within her own mind. However, they had little choice, unless she was to abandon the Saint. She almost despaired at the task before her, with little chance of succeeding before her. _The first step is realising it is an illusion – you must then force yourself to disbelieve it… then you must step backwards into your own mind, and force the illusion to show itself to you – you will sense it as a shard within your mind, something out of place… I see it as a black, if that helps you any… Then you must rip it out. _

Nerte realised that this was a poor explanation and that if Adriana could follow it, it would be a miracle.She waited, as Adriana apparently tried this and then fell back into a state of non-consciousness like that she had been in when Nerte had arrived. _Adriana? _She thought to her.

_Who… dead…? _Came back the unsteady response.

In frustration Nerte thrust herself from Adriana's mind and fell backwards on the cold stone of the third chamber, jarring her partially healed arm, the bond between her and the Saint severed. The purplish stand disintegrated into pale mist, which dispersed across the room. She looked up at Adriana and realised that nothing she, nor the Saint could do would work… at least nothing so subtle. Nerte thrust her good hand forwards almost violently and released her frustration into the destruction spell she dispersed against her. Blue sparks flew from her fingers and writhed around Adriana's body. Adriana was shocked backwards from her upright position in the centre of the room and a purplish charge seemed to build around her. The faint traces of the artificial bond between them re-formed as it was fed with energy and the spell surged back along it. It slammed into Nerte, a mix of a pink and blue surge, and flung her across the stone room, in the opposite direction. She managed to pull herself upright, her hand finding purchase around the damp arm of one of the corpses littered around the room. As soon as she was upright she released her grip on this gristly handhold and once again looked across the room. She sighed in relief, as the Saint's golden cat's eyes glared back at her. And then she collapsed.

* * *

Adriana glared across the room and groaned in annoyance as the Mazken collapsed. What had happened though…? Suddenly her memory of the past half ira returned and she realised what had occurred. The illusion that had trapped her had been broken by a lightning spell which Nerte had cast against her. A lightning spell. And Nerte had received a large blast of it, as Adriana herself was almost completely immune to this form of magic and, on occasions, she had even reflected such magic. This was why she could master such an incredibly powerful lightning spell… One that would harm most who were trying to use it. Regardless, the spell had apparently reflected and Nerte had taken a fair percentage of the blast. Adriana slowly and stiffly stood, and made her way over to Nerte. She shook her good shoulder roughly and growled lowly when she did not wake. She looked around her in the dark. "Illuminatum!" she shouted into the darkness. Seemingly beaten by this simple word the darkness withdrew into the deep corners of the room and then, as the light brightened further, the shadows fled even from these corners. She bent over the Seducer and lifted her up, over her shoulders and started to walk from the room. The Seducer weighed so little; Adriana could scarcely even feel the extra weight upon her shoulders. She strode forwards, up the staircase and into a dead end. She stepped forwards one step further to glare around this dead end.

And then the floor flared up around her in bright light, the floor in the shape of an evil looking face, half grinning and half crying out in despair.

The light around her dimmed only again as the teleport pad finished its work, and she found herself looking at a new room. Torchlight flickered around the walls and, even as she looked on, shadows moved around the corner. She slung Nerte from her back onto the ground and drew her sword. Her sword found its way to her hand and, out of its sheath, the cold steel gleaming in the torchlight. She almost laughed when she realised that the shadow was just Nerte's shadow, casting across the room. She stepped around the corner and saw to her surprise that they were back at the door through which they had entered. She pulled lightly on the door and it creaked open. Rain splashed down, tinkling lightly on her steel boots. She grimaced as something tugged at the corner of her mind… something that hadn't been there before. She shrugged and realised that it was most likely simply a side effect of the powerful illusion spell that had caught her in its cold clutches. She turned back to Nerte, lying on the teleport pad. She looked around, and then fixed her gaze on the ground. _Flamenurelt_, she thought, and red flame burst from her fingers and hit the ground. Like liquid mercury the magical flames bunched up around the one point on the floor and continued to burn, despite the obvious lack of wood. She pulled Nerte roughly over to the flames, to its all encompassing warmth. Her blinding light dimmed. And she waited.


	9. Severing the Bond

**Severing the Bond**

* * *

_So, the first of many tasks has been completed – the Champion is well underway, and he has done so without the aid of those I sent after him. My Lord felt Xedillian re-activating, and he is expecting the Champion to arrive any day now. IF he makes it back that is. No doubt he will fulfil my expectations and fail at some stage…_

* * *

Nerte opened her highlighter blue eyes and looked up at the ceiling. Flames flickered somewhere nearby, and Adriana's white glow could not be seen anywhere. Warmth flowed to her from the flames, and her arm was apparently almost healed, no doubt through Adriana's work. She felt something in the back of her mind. A… presence? Something that certainly shouldn't be there regardless… She felt around and…

Suddenly she could see herself lying there, her eyes open. She felt the frustrations, the angers, the energies, those that weren't hers. And then, she was violently forced from this position, and back into her own mind. Shocked, she looked around, and then pushed herself upright.

Adriana jumped up next to her, and glared around the room. Someone was messing with her mind again. This time she wasn't simply going to fall for it though…

"Nerte…" she growled "What's going on this time?"

"What?" asked the Mazken, looking up, a look of surprise upon her face. The Saint had felt something too, at the exact moment she had pushed at the intrusion, and had been forced back out…

"Something pushing at my mind." She snarled, into mid air, as though expecting a mind probing wizard to materialize so she could hack him up. Nothing of the such happened, so she faced the Seducer again.

Nerte felt around the presence within her mind. It was the faintest trace, more like a bond… a link. Nevertheless, whatever it was was tightly in place. She went to try and remove it. Nothing happened, and Adriana scowled at her. "So, what's up?"

She didn't answerer. She suddenly realised that there was something familiar about the imprint in her mind after all. It was almost identical to that of Adriana herself, only far, far weaker. _Adriana? _She thought, hesitantly.

"Yes, what?" Adriana snapped back at her. The seducer was really beginning to try her nerves.

Nerte glanced away from her, and replied, "I think that while trying to pull you out of the illusion I managed to… to bond us together mentally…"

"You WHAT?" demanded Adriana angrily.

"Ahh… Well," she began "A lightning spell did surge along a partially broken mental bond…"

"So we're what? Stuck together?"

"I doubt it" replied Nerte "It may wear off, and even if it does, the way you thrust me out a moment ago, the most the bond could do would be simple communications, and not even that if you don't let me…"

"Are you saying it may be permanent?" She glared at Nerte, the full thrust of her anger directed at her.

Angry as well now she glared back at the Saint. "It's not like I wanted a permanent mental bond with an imbecilic Saint, like you!" she shouted at her. She stood up.

"What we need is to catch up with the Campion." She said. "We'll catch him in New Sheoth, and once we're there we can get someone to sever the bond… Earil might know something…"

"Earil?" asked Adriana suspiciously. "Isn't he that Chronomancer? If so, he's an imbecile by all accounts."

"Lay off him…" said Nerte angrily "He's a genius, just never say yes if he asks you a question to do with his Chronomancy…"

"Yeah, otherwise you'll end up an exhibit," muttered Adriana darkly "Or so I've heard."

"Yes, well, everyone has their failings… But the point is, he might know how to sever the bond, if you're so desperate. But seriously, if we're going to be working together for so long it could be a great asset." She said quietly. _See, Silence, the more you think about it, it is truly a gift… _she thought to Adriana.

Adriana swatted the air angrily as though trying to brush away an annoying fly.

"We'll see this Earil." She said firmly.

She stepped over to the door again and pulled it open a crack. The rain had petered out. She turned around and clanked back to Nerte's side. She lent over and cast a healing spell on Nerte's shoulder once again. This time when Nerte ran her hand over the wound she could no longer feel it. Her arm was healed. She almost thanked the saint, but she looked like she would hit her if she did. Oh well.

Two days later the pair arrived at the Crucible gate to New Sheoth. After a lengthy argument Adriana had consented to enter into Crucible, agreeing that they should go to see Earil first of all. The guard at the gate had refused to admit Adriana at first, but Nerte had lied simply that they were there on Sheogorath's business. The Seducer had scowled at Adriana, who held the look in kind, and given them entrance.

Crucible sprawled away in front of them, the open drains surrounded by the buzzing of flies. The pair were unsurprisingly met by stares. Several Kajiit, and an Orc, with a large, vicious looking dog looked on, wondering what a Dark Seducer, and a Golden Saint could possibly be doing walking up the main street of Crucible. The pair ignored the looks they received, and as soon as they came to where they were heading. A large sign proclaimed the odd magic shop in front of them as being _Earil's Mysteries._ Nerte pushed open the door to _Earil's Mysteries _and stepped inside. If the atmosphere outside in Crucible had been somewhat dark, this was like stepping into a matchbox. The sounds of the street behind them were muffled, and even their footsteps, Nerte's light, assassin armour clad feet and Adriana's clunking steel boots. The room was a small, dark shop, with a number of display cabinets holding odd objects. A wispy looking High Elf stood behind a counter. A broad grin split his face upon seeing them. "Ah, the subjects?" he asked them. He frowned slightly upon second glance, realising that they were not. The frown vanished again as his gaze alighted upon Nerte's face. "Nerte!" he exclaimed. "What are you doing here?" His gaze wandered across to Adriana. "And with such a companion?" He muttered to himself "straight back… strong limbs… I am a student of Chronomancy" he said to her. "I could slow down you body, its functions until they may as well not be working at all. For thousands of years you could be preserved as such…" He petered out as Adriana's glare met his eyes. "but perhaps not… You wouldn't want to be part of my experiments would you?"

"No" replied Adriana coldly.

The frost in her voice splintered his thoughts away from his obsessive hobby and under her imperious glare he swallowed and hastily turned back to Nerte "I suppose you are not back to consider my offer?" he asked.

"No" she said firmly. "We are here because of a slight problem with a permanent mental bond."

He perked up at this. "Ah, really?" he asked, his interest captured immediately. "Just hold on a minute." He ran out of the room, and into the back of his shop.

"So you seriously think this wacky little weasel's going to be able to help us?" asked Adriana. Nerte turned back to answer her, but Earil arrived back in the room, holding a bulky case held up with both his hands. "My tools" he explained, and then turned to Adriana "And as well as being a student of Chronomancy I have excellent hearing" he said pointedly.

"And?" she demanded.

"Well…" he faltered, and then muttered "Nothing…"

"Do we need two people for this? Asked Nerte.

"No, we won't just the one member of the bond will do perfectly well… Why?"

_Get out _sent Nerte angrily.

She watched Adriana's departing back and turned back to the Chronomancer.

"Sorry about that" she apologised, as the door slammed shut.


	10. Cutter

_A/N: This chapter was uploaded on behalf of MalagBaal by his ever-obedient sister, Jenwryn. And he asked me to tell you this, as an explanation as to why he isn't answering reviews etc at the moment. The thing is, MB is travelling around up Northern Australia and, while he could get on email to send me this chapter, he couldn't upload it himself or come online properly to check up on what everyone else is doing. So... cheers, enjoy, and review, I guess!_

* * *

**Cutter**

* * *

_Cutter. She is the Crucible Smith, who is renowned for her skills and affinity with her blades. What she lacks in concentration she makes up for in dreamy mysticism. Despite this, she is the greatest swordsmith in Dementia, and is rivalled only by the Smith of Mania. Both have been known to exact revenge on customers who stray to their rival smith, and their feuding rivals that of even the Mazken and the Auriel. Quite remarkable._

* * *

Adriana didn't need telling twice, and she burst angrily out of the poky little shop. She strode up the street, dodging sludge, and kicking a stunted mushroom tree, breaking it off at the stem. She stopped and looked around the street. A number of tacky looking stores, several houses and an odd museum seemed to be about all that was here. Her gaze drifted around until it came to rest on the brightest sign there. _Cutter's Weapons _it proclaimed. Of course. The Dementia bladesmith. She sniffed the air, and grit her teeth. The disgrace, having to even be in Dementia, let alone visiting Cutter's store. However, she wanted a new blade, if possible.

The atmosphere inside the store was similar to that of _Earil's Mysteries, _but seemed stained crimson. In reality there was very little blood in the store, but Adriana was somewhat surprised to see any at all, but then she remembered – this was after all Crucible. She prowled around the store and realised that this store did not sell rubbish as she had always believed. The shelves were lined with weapons from all races and times, mostly weapons she recognised as being of Isles origin, and some others from various realms, several blades that had to be Demora blades, even a Crescent Blade. There were even some that seemed to be Tamriellan. The rest she did not recognise at all, and had names she couldn't even pronounce. She came to a halt in front of the most familiar item there – its label proclaiming: _Auriel Longsword. _The blade glimmered faintly in the dimness of the store. Carefully she lifted the blade from its slot on the shelf and held it in two hands. So long it had been since she had held a weapon of such craftsmanship… She looked at the strange writing up and down the blade. She couldn't read it, but it seemed to be some form of ancient Auriel… She swung the blade once, and felt the blade cleave through the air. A powerful weapon this was… She would have to have this blade.

She felt around her belt, and found the small pouch which hung there. She opened it up and felt around for the smallest of the gold nuggets she could find, and strode over to Cutter, who had been watching her with a look of amused interest on her strange face since Adriana had entered. Cutter was a tall, dark haired Wood Elf with a long face and short nose, for a Wood Elf. "A saintly Saint in my store…" she said at last as Adriana walked towards her. "And what a choice in blades…What kind of Saint needs a Saint's sword, when they are supplied to them?" she asked, genuine interest in her tone. "In fact, I have never even had a Seducer in my store let alone a Saint. Why are you here?"

"None of your business," scowled Adriana. She hefted the sword up onto the table. She then drew her longsword from its sheath and clanged it carelessly down next to it.

Cutter's eyes gleamed dangerously. "While the blades are mine you will respect them," she breathed out.

Adriana raised her eyebrows and growled lowly. "Or what?"

Cutter held her gaze "Or Glimmerspike will feed again."

Suddenly she felt a prickling on her neck, and she saw a long thin blade was resting against her neck. Cutter said nothing else, but the Madness Ore blade moved from its position up against her neck, and vanished back under the counter.

They both said nothing for a moment, but apparently came to an unspoken agreement.

"Now, you would no doubt like to purchase this blade from me…" she said. "This steel longsword will cover perhaps… hmm… one twentieth of the cost of the longsword."

"That little?" asked Adriana incredulously.

Cutter smiled dreamily. "The blood of dozens is imbued within this weapon," she said, caressing the Golden Longsword gently between her hands. "Great, great strength lies within it…"

She eyed the Saint warily. "I would not normally part so lightly with such a blade," she declared, "but on its soul I have seen your mark. You will use this sword well, and it shall gain what it lusts for… something it will not gain sitting on my shelf. Such a blade should not be kempt up, lying unused, gathering dust…"

"You talk as if the blade were alive," said Adriana, instantly regretting the comment. All she wanted to do was pay Cutter, and get away from this blood-loving mystic.

"In a way," she replied "all blades are. Take this blade…" she said slowly, picking up the steel longsword from the wooden counter. "Almost new, dead to me… It has claimed little blood as yet… it has no soul… This sword…" she said, patting the hilt of the Golden Longsword "…is ancient. It is a relic from one of the early ages of the Isles, from almost the start of Sheogorath's reign, the shattered prince… In this time it has strengthened, and taken a life almost of its own. It was originally forged to do battle against the Knights of Order – in the first Greymarch the Saints and Seducers almost overthrew the forces of Order with such blades, but when Jyggalag walked upon the battlefield all fell before him… Nothing could withstand his unbelievable power."

Wanting to end this speech on her blade's history as quickly as possible she handed over the gold nugget she had fished out of her money bag. Cutter took it gently from her and examined it carefully. Apparently satisfied with the size, or quality of the lump she slipped it into a pocket and handed the blade over to her. "Just wait here a moment…" she said. "I will go find its sheath." Cutter ducked out of the main part of the store. At that very moment the door to _Cutter's Weapons _opened, and a tall imperial stepped inside. He looked around the store, seeing Adriana and then quickly looking away. A large ornately lumpy blade hung across his back, its blade split in half, fashioned in the shape of a long, toothy jaw. It was short enough to be a longsword, but its hilt resembled a Claymore's and could easily be wielded two handed. Cutter walked back out from the back of her shop, and handed her the ornate sheath of the longsword. She bid her goodbye and wished her luck with the blade, and that it serve her well. Adriana took it and hooked it up to her belt, and sheathed her new sword. Even as she stepped away from the counter she heard Cutter give a strangled sounding exclamation of delight. She spun around to see the brown haired Imperial holding up that odd sword of his. She walked back up to the counter. "What type of sword _is _that?" she demanded loudly. No doubt Cutter recognised it, by the stupid noise she made.

"This…" she said pausing for dramatic emphasis "is an Akaviri Dreamblade." Adriana looked at the Imperial next to her to see if he knew what she was talking about. He shrugged his shoulders tiredly. "Don't ask me," he said and pointed at the Wood Elf. "She's the expert. All I know is that ages back the Akaviri attacked Morrowind, but they defeated them."

Morrowind she thought… Where had she heard of that realm? Then she realised… it was a land of Cyrodill.

"You're from Tamriel?" she asked him imperiously.

Cutter glared at her "You do know who you are talking to don't you?" she asked angrily. The Imperial looked slightly embarrassed and he was obviously just as surprised by this outburst as Adriana.

"No," said Adriana, in a tone that implied that she did not really care at all.

"This is your Lord Sheogorath's Champion," said Cutter loudly.

"Really?" asked Adriana, suddenly not only sounding interested, but also slightly disbelieving.

"Now," said Cutter "Leave." Bluish ripples flowed across the room, and before she could move Adriana was flung across the room and out onto the street. Sorely she picked herself up from the ground. She hadn't known that Cutter was anything more than a mad smith. She scowled at the wooden door as it slammed itself shut behind her. Certainly she had never heard that she had such powerful control of telekinesis. In fact, she'd never even seen a telekinesis who could do more than pick up small objects. Behind her came a low sniggering sound and she looked around. A short man, balding and dressed in the usual Dementia rags stood there, and he instantly adopted a look of ridiculous innocence and raised one bushy eyebrow at her.

"What's your problem?" demanded Adriana.


	11. Dawnfang, Duskfang

_A/N: Still Jenwryn uploading on behalf of MalagBaal. Hope you enjoy. Review him if you read! :D  
_

* * *

**Dawnfang, Duskfang  
**

* * *

_Akaviri. The Akaviri are an ancient Tamriellan nation. They have on several occasions made attempts to take Cyrodill by force, but have always been defeated. Just such an attempt was made in the ancient days of the ancient Ayleids and a number of powerful blades known as Akaviri Dreamblades were captured by the Ayleids. I know of only one such blade that has been found, and it has recently been brought to the Isles in the hands of an adventurer. _

* * *

Finn Cro'hagan watched as Adriana was hurled out the door. She pushed herself up on her elbows, just as the door slammed shut in her face, and the last of the bluish ripples faded away.

The Akaviri blade still clutched in his two hands, sheathed he turned back to Cutter.

"I thought you were just a smith…" he muttered.

She smiled at him, and he looked away momentarily. "Madman, do you not think that some skill other than simple hammering is required to make a Madness Ore blade? When my skill is not exerted on forging a weapon I have found it can become quite a powerful weapon on its own." She looked down at the Akaviri blade in his hands "So, let's take a look at this. May I?" she asked eagerly and gestured her taking it from him. He shrugged and handed it over. She took the sheath gently from him, and then, placed her hand upon the hilt of the sword. Her eyes widened in shock, and she dropped the blade as if it had been red hot. The blade clattered to the table, half drawn from its sheath. Finn watched, amazed as the powerful smith backed away from the table, where the sword had fallen. "This blade…" she said "hungers stronger than any I have ever before felt. It does not merely release the souls of those it destroys, but devours them…" she relaxed, and carefully lifted up the sheath of the blade. There was a metallic sliding sound as the blade dug back into its sheath.

"I was going to try and sell this to you," said Finn slowly, "but I guess that's a no?"

"I would not take this blade off you for anything in all the plains of Oblivion," she said. "Only he who has taken the blade through force will gain its use, and mastership over it… As you saw, its mere hilt attacked even _me _ for attempting to draw it." She stopped, thinking for a moment before going on slowly. "Anyway, Madman the blade is split into two halves – fire and frost – much as the land you are attempting to save… Perhaps it will serve well, even if only as a symbol." Finn took the offered sword sullenly. He'd wanted to offload this evil blade as soon as possible, but no-one would take it. He slung it across his back again, and bid the smith farewell, before turning and marching back out onto the street again, fingering his more ordinary steel blade. He would have to hold onto the Fang blade for now; it was far too dangerous to simply leave it lying around somewhere. Even un-drawn from its sheath he could feel the evil power of the blade pulsing across his back. He shuddered. He could very well believe it was alive as Cutter had said, and it wasn't just how it looked. He had wielded it only once in battle against what had been described to him as Knights of Order, the enemies that he was supposed to be 'defending the realm' against. The blade had whispered in his mind, attempting to incite him into a berserk frenzy, but had just failed… He had barely dared even to touch its accursed hilt after that…

With scarcely a look back behind him he shoved the door open. Even the dim light of Dementia made him blink as it assailed his eyes after the darkness of _Cutter's Weapons. _ For a second the silence of the store seemed to follow him out the door, and then, mere fractions of later the roar of Adriana's voice broke into his thoughts.

"…how dare you accuse me of such things…!" she shouted.

Finn mentally sighed. The small man she was screaming at was none other than Herdir. The Syl's torturer had a small smile on his face, obviously thoroughly enjoying the exchange. "By Talos, man, what are you doing?" asked Finn.

"Nothing, honoured Madman" he said. Finn could hear nothing sarcastic in the way this man addressed him, but he always felt like he was missing some joke on him. It was the smile. "The lovely Saint Adriana and I know each other quite well. She asked what I was looking at – and I answered as accurately as I could. I may have mentioned the words traitor and exile at some stage… Why do you ask?"

_I have no idea _ thought Finn. "Why do you think?" he asked to the amusement of Herdir, who's irritating smile still did not vanish. He turned to the glaring Auriel who towered over even him. Since he had arrived in the Isles even he had not seen such a massive Golden Saint, nor one with such a perfect mask of contempt. "Look, he's not mine, so I'm not sorry, but just try and ignore him would you?"

Herdir looked at him, and said "Why don't we see if she's got anything to do with the plot?"

"A Golden Saint?" asked Finn disbelievingly "You _have _ to be kidding - I'd believe you were involved in the plot long before _ her_." He sighed. "Come on…" and began to walk back up the street. A sneaky look on his face Herdir stopped and turned around. Adriana had also turned away, and was heading up the street to. He held out an arm, and his torturous lightning spell flowed from it. He waited for the satisfying gasp of pain, but none came. And then the spell surged back from its intended target and rebounded upon the torturer himself. He gasped loudly, in not surprising shock and jumped backwards, and landed in a pile on the ground. Her eyes narrowed Adriana turned. All she had felt was a pleasant tingling, but the intention was what counted. Finn had seen this out of the corner of his eye, and when the saint gave a rare laugh and strode back off down the street, slamming open the door of _Earil's Mysteries _ behind her, he could only smile. He was also pleased to see the small grin was finally wiped from Herdir's face. He held out a hand to the man, who rose slowly, a look of pained embarrassment having replaced the small smile for a moment.

"Come on then Herdir – I think it's about time you got a dose of your own medicine anyway."

Herdir growled lowly at him and looked away. When he looked back again his growl had been replaced with a more familiar look – a small, irritating smile. "Shall we continue our work, Madman?" he asked, apparently having put the incident of the Saint behind him, and was going to continue as if nothing had happened at all. They both strode back up the street, people glancing at them, seeing Herdir and then looking away again quickly.

Finn looked at the ragged man, and remembered his task. He had just been on his way to inform Syl that he had found Murrine to be behind the conspiracy. No doubt, he was committing her to death. However…

"Yes, we will." He replied quietly and began to walk towards the New Sheoth Palace.


	12. Sheogorath

_The Real Author is back. Hi. So, here is the next chapter. Hope you like Sheogorath, cause if ye don't ye won't like this marvelously awefull little chapter. _

**Sheogorath**

* * *

_Sheogorath. The Madgod himself. All inhabitants of the Isles hold respect for him in the darkest corners of their hearts which glimmers through at the mention of his name. A Daedric prince. The embodiment of Change. And, in his case the embodiment of madness. Why does such a Prince exist? What Daedra, logical and orderly creatures on the whole would choose to rule over madness. The simple answer is, none. None would choose to do so. Yet Sheogorath has. Or has he not? _

* * *

Earil sat back, apparently satisfied that there were no more strange instruments he could aim at Nerte, and he took off the large, ridiculous looking pair of convex glasses (Aurascopes _he_ called them) – well, they could be called glasses, she supposed.

Earil rocked back on his chair, looking nervous. "Well, I've checked you over…" he paused here and Nerte asked "And?"

"And nothing" he finished hurriedly "I could find nothing, no residual links of any kind at all, nothing…"

Nerte delved into the back of her mind and felt the brooding presence of Adriana there. "So, why can I still find her presence here?" she asked, irritated.

"Um, I have no idea… very sorry…" he stammered this last bit out as Adriana herself burst into the room, laughing loudly and sounding slightly evil.

"Look who's in a good mood" muttered Nerte.

Adriana swung round and glared at her, changing her manner instantly. "And?" she asked "Can this… person," she said waving a hand at Earil "help us?"

"No" said Nerte. "It would seem not" she said, giving him a small smile, deciding that as he had, after all done his best, she should at least try and act like she was grateful, something which Adriana was completely incapable of. Despite being as tall as them, Adriana, especially an angry one (was there really any other type?) was quite intimidating to say the least, and the High Elf looked like the sooner she was gone the happier he'd feel. He returned her smile weakly, perhaps grateful that as she trudged out the door the Saint followed behind her.

Nerte noticed the new sword and said nothing about it but did say "So, you meet the champion, and don't follow him, or even let me know. _Very_ smart of you."

Adriana's face tensed up even further than normal, and in suspicion asked angrily "have you been using the link?" she asked. "To spy on what I've been doing.

Nerte smiled to herself. She hadn't even noticed. "I might have." She rolled her eyes at Adriana "look, come on, you need to be using it as well. It is truly marvellous. I could see everything you could, it was remote, but definitely you."

Adriana growled, but didn't say anything further.

Nerte had to stop herself adding one final comment to this. She was very smug about the fact that Adriana's sense of hearing, sight and smell were nothing on hers, but if she said this she would probably have found herself lying on the ground spitting out teeth if she didn't move quickly. Ah well…

She sighed. "So now, the trail ends. We'll have to go up around the palace and hope we bump into him, I guess." She really had been hoping Earil wouldn't find anything – if he had, she wouldn't have said so until this was all over, anyway. She had a feeling it could be pretty useful at some stage. Slightly irritating however. Regardless of how she positioned her thoughts she could feel Adriana seething in the background.

Adriana couldn't even feel Nerte's comparatively mild presence in the background static of her mind without the greatest concentration, and she found this rather unsettling. She had the feeling that Nerte could be in her head at any time she wanted. Thankfully it seemed only to be on a conscious level. She could imagine very few things worse than Nerte sifting through her subconscious. She shrugged to herself. Really, if Nerte wanted to look through her eyes, than at the moment that was her problem. Annoying, yes, but at the moment it couldn't harm her really, anyway.

At this moment there came a wisp of purple smoke and the air in front of them shimmered. A dark shape formed in its centre. The shape sighed.

Haskill stepped forwards, and both the Saint and the Seducer almost ran into him, both of them pulling up quickly in surprise. The small man looked from one to the other and proclaimed in a dry voice.

"Well, it would seem that as they would say, 'the game is up'". He muttered this to himself. "Sheogorath knows you're here, and he's demanded that you come to his palace at once. As with everyone, he has been playing a ridiculous little game of his own behind the scenes here, or at least has decided my idea was a good one… Oh dear" he muttered to himself as he paled and Nerte could see brickwork through him. "Summoned again, by that fool of a Champion no doubt…" With this final statement and a gloomy look at them Haskill vanished. "Right" said Nerte. "Let's go…"

Sheogorath's palace in New Sheoth loomed before them, the immense staircase thrusting up above them. The flames of both the Shades of Madness lined each side of the stairs, signifying both the split in the palace and the literal split between the two countries which the palace was built on. Syl's palace adjoined Sheogorath's great throne room to the right, while Thadon's palace was to the left. The entire palace shimmered, caught in the rays of the low, afternoon sun, right before it plunged beneath the waves of the Sea of Madness to be re-born the next day when the time beckoned. Sheogorath had originally supposedly created it in honour of one of Azura's phoenixes, apparently a magnificent sight in bygone ages. This sounded like the sort of thing he'd do to Nerte, but perhaps it was a little farfetched. Both Nerte and Adriana received plenty of glares, from not only their opposing races, but their own. Those who guarded the palace knew exiles when they saw them, and while sneering at them, held their distance until they received further orders. In front of them they faced the split doors of the split lands. Adriana entered on the left and Nerte on the right, the doors through which they had long entered.

Neither of them had spoken about the summons to the palace, and neither had considered ignoring them either. Once the Madgod knew of you in his Isles and had called on you, you did not refuse. To do so would be most unwise. While not the sanest of the princes he still had great power. And anyway, what is sanity when comparing to some of the other Princes. At least Sheogorath _could _be pleasant when the mood held.

From the sidewalks that surrounded the main room Nerte and Adriana looked at each other. Like the rest of the palace the throne room was split into two halves. The room soared up above them, and Auriel patrolled the northern side of the room, while Mazken held their positions to the south, dark flames spluttering near them. A divided carpet ran along the room one side red, the other green running into a figure as divided in costume and mind as the rest of the room. Sheogorath. Haskill was no-where to be seen, but then, he had been summoned…

Simultaneously they both stepped out into the open.

"Ah, ye made it, my little friends!" shouted the Madgod, his Golden Saint like eyes widening happily "How are'ye feeling? Well? Sick? Happy? Sad?" he asked, but before they could answer he continued, suddenly sounding almost angry "Arr, don't answer. I can see right through you're little skulls"

Nerte and Adriana didn't bother answering. It didn't pay to do so – whatever you said – it would be wrong.

"And here ye are, working behind my backs" he roared at them.

"Haskill thought I didn't know" chuckled the Prince of Madness. "What a dear little chappie he is." His mood swung suddenly to irritation and he scowled, his grey beard jutting out "Doing things behind me back again he was. I'll have to have a word with him about that. Or maybe even _two_."

He grinned at them again and said "anyway, now you're here you may as well make yourselves useful… Unless ye want to meet Malacath in person" he finished off menacingly.

"So, we keep working the way Haskill said, do we, my Lord?" asked Nerte.

"Yeah, ye may as well now ye've started, just think what a waste of perfectly good Grummites it'd be if you stopped now… Anyway, Haskill's probably right about ye helping the little mortal through it. He is a bit daft, even if he is supposed to be me…"

"What?" asked Adriana, sounding almost pleasant for the first time since Nerte had met her.

"Nothin'" he snapped at her, waving his hand with his cane in it, small purple flowers shooting out of the cane and melting before they hit the ground.

"But first things first now…this won't do at all…" he muttered to himself and waved his hand again, with more purpose than agitation this time. Blue light flowed around the room, encompassing firstly Adriana and then Nerte. "So then? How's that feel, eh?"

Nerte stepped back in surprise. She felt a surge flow through her as a bond was renewed. Looking at Adriana's face she had felt the same thing too.

"Couldn't have ye wandering around not connected to your Wellspring's could I?" he asked, almost serious for a moment. "So, you are officially no longer exiled until I see fit to exile you back to where ever I sent you in the first place. Anyway, the Wellspring's power tells me right where you are… Very useful, to track my champion, and his rather… excitingly tedious progress."

"Now, before ye ask, I've sent the wee fellow up to Cylarne to get the flame lit, so that he can bring back a bit of flame and light up the watchtower here – Nice and symbolic, completely useless – a good task for a beginner, eh?"

Cylarne? thought Nerte. Easy, if he can convince the Saints and the Seducers to work together…

"Well, my dear," he said, picking up on her thoughts, "looks like you two havn't throttled each other yet – that's a nice start anyway…"

Sheogorath paused for a moment and then roared at them "Well what are'ye waitin' for? Get going or I'll get you going! Time flies when ye ain't havin' fun!"

Nerte and Adriana turned smartly and left before Sheogorath's temper could worsen.

"Oh," he said loudly to their backs "One last thing…"

Sheogorath, the Madgod waved at them, as they turned around. Adriana felt something change. The steel armour she was still wearing loosened and shortened around her legs and back, and broadened across her shoulders. Suddenly it felt far more familiar…Without looking down she realised the Madgod had transformed it to Auriel Golden Armour. She smiled softly to herself and turned back away, knowing enough of the Madgod not to say anything further. She glimpsed Nerte as she turned away, and saw that she too, was clad in the armour of her race.

As they exited the room Nerte heard the Madgod cry out, whole heartedly with a cackle behind his words, ringing around the chamber "Come visit again, or I'll… pluck out your eyes!"


	13. Unions

**Unions**

* * *

_Mania is the northern land of the Shivering Isles. It is represented by the madly happy of the Isles, those who are always enthralled by colours, shapes and patterns, who's minds wander at the slightest notice, and who delight in breathing in mushroom tree Madness spores. A case of 'the more, the merrier' it would seem. It is the land of the Golden Saints and here they feel most at ease. _

* * *

Nerte looked around the garish and distasteful landscape of Mania, which now stretched out around her in all directions, distrustfully.

Giant mushroom trees reared up around her, showering the sunny, green landscape with sparkly gold-red spores. Purple flowered shrubs and small fungi of all colours sprouted from the fertile soil, and there seemed to be no pests on them. Bright butterflies flew across the fields, sunshine glinting off their wings, showering colours in all directions. It was the colour she distrusted. It was too… surreal.

Despite looking harmless and bright, she knew the countryside to be if anything more dangerous than her home ground of Dementia. At least there what you see is what you get, she thought.

On the other hand, Adriana had been only too happy to be back in Mania after all this time. Since she had arrived in the Isles she had been dragged back and forth through Dementia and even Crucible. At least the landscape here gave beauty as well as danger – Dementia was simply dingy, dirty and plain ugly.

And now the City of the Flame of Agnon, Cylarne sprawled out before them. Despite having crumbled into ruins some many years ago the city was still quite impressive.

As the pair strode up a small stair through a door in the wall Nerte noted a large grey – but as yet still dormant – Obelisk of Order. At this time she had not yet seen any active obelisks, but she had seen the beginnings of a magical aura forming round some… Like they had in the last Greymarch.

The stone archway recessed back onto a large courtyard, which was mostly still intact. Two ironwork gates were the exits from this courtyard. They leftmost one was guarded by a Mazken, the rightmost by an Auriel. _I could have been here yesterday_, thought Adriana happily. In one of her first regenerations from the Wellspring she had fought here alongside the Auriel in an attempt to overthrow the Mazken garrison. It had, unfortunately, been one of her shortest lives yet. The battle had not gone well at all… Anyway, that was many, many years ago now…

Nerte wandered over to the Mazken guard, who smiled at her, while somehow managing to keep her eyes on the Auriel guard across from her and maintaining a distrustful glare. Nerte felt Adriana walking over towards the Auriel guard behind her, and then disregarded her.

"What business have you in Cylarne?" asked the guard. "And keeping such… company?" she continued, glaring openly at Adriana as well now.

"Warrior of Despair," Nerte addressed the Mazken formally. "We have been sent by our Lord Sheogorath to aid his Champion."

"Champion? What Champion?" she asked quietly. "No such warrior has arrived here at Cylarne."

"What?" asked Nerte, surprised. And then she thought about it. A mortal. He would not have had time to travel here yet... He would be slow, with supplies and having to sleep. Angry with herself, she thanked the guard, who offered her entrance to the City. Nerte turned it down for now, but took a key from the guard, which she was assured would 'open any lock in the city.' She also mentioned an attack, but right now the feuding of Cylarne was not her highest priority. But if it came to a battle while she was in Cylarne she would fight alongside her race, a high priority or not.

Turning around to face Adriana's footsteps she was confronted with what she expected. An irritated glare and a booming voice, as she declared, "The damn mortal's not even here yet!"

"Yes, well…" said Nerte. She too was somewhat annoyed, but she wasn't going to shout it for all the plains of Oblivion to hear. "We'll just have to wait for him then… we should not enter the city without him anyway."

The time passed slowly. Time, Nerte found did _not_ fly "when ye ain't havin' fun" as Sheogorath put it – rather, the opposite happened. Adriana had wandered off somewhere, no doubt she'd found a cave full of Grummites or a Scalon to beat up or something like that. She had sat down on the stairs in front of the archway entrance to the city, and begun to relax, closing her eyes, and loosening up, for the first time since she had been in Xedillian. She glanced at her arm. Adriana's spell _had _worked marvels. There was not a mark to be seen.

"No doubt I would be mistaken if I were to assume, hope above hopes that this were finally Cylarne?" asked a deep voice, interrupting her thoughts. It _sounded _Imperial.

Nerte looked up. "Are you Sheogorath's Champion?" she asked quickly and then quickly answered his question before he could answer, "And yes, it is."

"Oh, good. Haskill seemed to think I'd have difficulty finding it. And yes, I am." He frowned, paused for a moment and asked "Were you expecting me?"

He looked the Mazken up and down. She seemed slightly different to the rest of her race that he'd seen – more relaxed perhaps. Thin by the standards of a Mazken as well. Like all those of her race she had quite a fine and well balanced face, and bright electric blue eyes. Unlike any he had seen before she wore her black hair long, in a pony tail which flowed down her bare back behind her.

She answered him: "I have been expecting you for almost half a day."

Seeing the surprised look on his face she elaborated a little. "Haskill sent myself and an Auriel to help you – we left after you, but apparently travel a little quicker than you do…"

"So, Haskill sent help, and didn't tell me…" he muttered. Typical, he thought, the man never told him anything. "Haskill!" he said out loud, and raised a hand.

Nerte felt a swish of breeze, but before she could ask a dry voice came from behind her: "Yes, Champion?" it asked.

She spun around. Appearing out of a cloud of black – purple mist was Haskill. "Oh," he said, spotting the seated Mazken at his feet. "I see you've met our friends here then?"

"Once again," said Finn angrily, "you tell me nothing. Why do I always end up in the dark?"

"Did it matter?" asked Haskill politely.

Finn glared at him. "Yes, of course it did…"

"Really?" asked Haskill, sounding incredulously surprised, his sarcasm at its finest. "Well, regardless it seems you know now… Have you met the Saint yet?"

Finn shook his head, still angry, especially at the condescension in Haskill's tone.

"Oh well, you will, no doubt, unless she's run off…?" He looked at Nerte inquiringly, who shook her head, her hair rippling across her back. "Well, anyway, this is Nerte, your local, friendly Dark Seducer." He began to disappear again, and his last sarcastic words that could be heard were "Have fun…" Then, he dispersed back into the mist in which he had first appeared.

While Finn glared at the vanishing shape, as always frustrated by Haskill, Nerte looked him over. Tall, for an Imperial, but not as tall as her, and nothing on Adriana. Short brown hair, grey eyes. Typical Imperial style, even the leather armour. An iron long sword hung at his waist, and a large leather pack was across his back. The hilt of a strange looking blade, the likes of which she'd never seen before was strapped beneath his pack, but it hung awkwardly, like he wasn't used to, and didn't appreciate its presence.

She stood up, and sent to Adriana, _He's here. _Finn looked over at her, now having to look up slightly to see her face.

"So, Nerte, is it?" he asked her, and held out a hand. For a moment she looked at him, trying to think what he wanted, and then remembered. The _handshake. _Tamriellan greeting, all that. She leapt lightly off the small stair and took his hand. He winced slightly, but said nothing as the fingers of her gauntlet cut into him, and she almost broke several bones in his fingers.

"That's me," she answered him.

"I'm…"

"… the Madman, Sheogorath's champion."

"Finn, I'd rather," he said. Nice, simple name, he thought. Why does everyone here want to use damn awkward titles? "So Haskill rounded someone up to give me a hand did he? How unlike him… Almost thoughtful even…"

Nerte decided it mightn't help much if she mentioned it was because Haskill seemed to think he was really stupid. He's made it this far, she thought, can't be too stupid – for a mortal… and a male at that…

"What's with the hair?" asked Finn suddenly.

"Do you mean why it isn't cropped like the rest of my race?" she asked with some pride. "I'm not a ground troop. I am – or at least was – Syl's personal assassin."

Finn frowned and then covered it up, rather poorly Nerte thought.

An assassin? he thought. Oh well, someone has to do it…

He'd never like assassins much, or at least the few he'd met. Not Dark Brotherhood assassins, just your everyday payable mercenary at the bar. They were always so cold, so detached. Yet the most openly friendly Daedra he'd met so far was declaring she was one.

"Anyway," he said quickly, "it's nice. Your hair." He didn't seem to have quite the same enthusiasm he'd had before he'd found out how she lived, however.

Finn was looking over her shoulder. She spun around. Adriana loomed up behind her. Maybe _that's _why the loss of enthusiasm. A glare from her would stop most people in their tracks...

Finn didn't offer _her_ his hand, Nerte noted. She grinned to herself. She'd hurt his hand. Adriana would mutilate it.


	14. Divisions

**Divisions**

* * *

_Divisions. Fractures. They appear so quickly in everything. A tug here, a tear there. All too soon a union can break and be destroyed. Loyalties surmount loyalties, and even as it forms, a fellowship divides.  
_

* * *

Some time later after Finn had eaten and packed up again the three headed into Cylarne. Finn could feel Adriana's glare on the back of his head. She had seemingly taken an instant dislike to him, although he suspected, and Nerte had confirmed it, that she was like that with everyone. Anyone who wasn't either a Saint or Lord Sheogorath himself…

The walls dropped back to reveal the open courtyard entrance of Cylarne which they had already entered once that day. However, the difference was that now the sun was dipping beyond the horizon. Pink and purple fluorescent constellations lit the sky as day prepared to make way for night and the Mazken and Auriel guards lit torches and placed them in holders around each of the ironwork gates.

So, thought Nerte – to light the flames he'll either have to unite the parties or force them into all out war… But he'll have to choose a side first…

The two stopped as Finn looked around, and then walked over to the Mazken guard.

"You are the one our Lord Sheogorath has sent to light the Flame, are you mortal?" asked the Mazken guard. When he answered her she snorted lightly and continued "Well then your task has been made somewhat easier then… Tonight the Auriel have an all out raid on the Alter of Despair planned…" she paused and looked at him. "_If_ you will aid us, that is."

A battle, he thought. That's what it always comes down to with this mob. He turned around as he felt Nerte tap him on the shoulder. "You'll have to choose a side now" she said, "whether you like it or not. I know this mob – I'm one of them – neither side will ever give in without their fight."

"Haskill?" growled Finn, looking away from Nerte and Adriana. A long suffering sigh later, the black and red figure appeared out of a mist cloud. "What is it this time? Can't it wait?" it asked.

"No it can't" said Finn. "Why's it got to be a battle for the Alters?" he demanded. "I don't mind killing Grummites and stuff, but the Seducers and the Saints, they're like people…"

"Yes, there does have to be a battle" answered Haskill in a tone that one usually reserved for two year olds and the mentally damaged. "And you have to be in it too." As if he could see Finn lining up his next question (Which was "Why?") Haskill continued. "Cylarne has stood on the brink of teetering to one side or the other for countless years. However, in His divine wisdom our Lord Sheogorath has made sure that the forces are always perfectly balanced – a new member will be required to change the outcome…" He stopped in mid sentence and then followed through "And if it makes you feel better, remember that the Mazken and the Auriel _are_ Daedra, and you have in your possession no means to kill them."

Like before, before Finn could ask anything else Haskill faded away, muttering to himself, "enlightening, as always…".

"Damn mongrel always goes before I'm finished with him," he said quietly.

"Why don't you just summon him again?" asked Nerte curiously.

"Spell won't work again for a half a day or so," he explained.

He thought about what Haskill said. "_You have in your possession no means to kill them…" _But he doubted this. The Daedra could be killed, but essentially their souls were re-born, at their respective wellsprings, the weak spots in the world from the Waters of Oblivion. He had a sword which he believed functioned by devouring souls. If he was right, there would be nothing left to be reborn if he used Dawnfang on a Daedra…

"Well, a battle there will be then," he said suddenly, sounding far more reckless then he felt. He turned back to the Mazken guard. "I will fight alongside you," he declared to her. Nerte stepped up beside him and finished… "We will hold the Alter of Despair with you."

The guard smiled at them, and opened the gate for them. "Follow the passage through the main doors – it will lead you into the stronghold of the Alter of Despair. Ask to talk with Ulfri – our leader in Cylarne."

She looked at someone behind him and he turned around. "Your friend, however," continued the Mazken coldly "is not welcome."

Adriana loomed forward and shot a look at her, before turning her face towards Finn. "Champion…" she said lowly, "I respect you as the Hero of the Isles – however, now is where I take my leave of you. If you survive I will continue on with you and guard you – however, I will not stand against my brethren, not even for one appointed by Sheogorath."

Before he could really reply or even get over his surprise she had turned away and strode off towards the far side of the courtyard. In the short time since they'd met he hadn't felt any sense of her having loyalty towards him. Yet, apparently she had. All for Sheogorath though, no doubt. After all, the only person that the saints truly respected was Sheogorath. But he still hadn't expected it…

He shook his head and cleared it from his mind. He would fight with the Mazken. They had been his favourite of the two races since he had entered the Isles, and there was something about the Saints that annoyed him – their "bull-headed arrogance" he believed he had once heard a Seducer describe it as.

He stepped through the gate, small stones crunching under feet. Nerte marched in behind him. She too had been rather surprised to hear that Adriana felt any loyalty to the mortal they had only just met. _She _scarcely did and at least she'd spoken to the man…

Regardless, it did not matter now. She would not meet Adriana again unless in battle. Surprising herself she felt a pang of sadness at the thought. She had enjoyed the silences of marches with Adriana, her grumpy nature, her lack of need of conversation. Nerte was perfectly capable of working with someone like that… As an assassin, she had often gone for days without talking with anyone at all. Adriana's company had been aggressive, but… there had been something about it that Nerte had nevertheless liked.

Suddenly she recalled what the guard had said. If Ulfri was indeed leading Cylarne's forces then there would be more trouble then she had thought.


	15. Cylarne

Fanfiction being downloaded by Malagbaal in person today. I know everyone would prefer to hear it from Jenwryn, but no, unfortunately for those poor people out there the AUTHOR is uploading this one, remarkable though it seems.

**Cylarne**

* * *

_Cylarne. It lies to the north of the Shivering Isles, deep into the land of Mania. A large ruin, is believed to have been the former capital of the Isles, back in the days when the country was split from North to South – before the last Greymarch. Once it must have been a bustling centre filled with thousands of inhabitants. However, such is no longer the case. The case today is that the ruins of the city house the Cold Flame of Agnon, which is fed by the flames of the Alter of Despair and the Alter of Rapture. For many years now the city has been guarded by two garrisons of Sheogorath's troops – one of Mazken, the other of Auriel – each in turn holding the Alter of Despair and the Alter of Rapture. These were once in sections of a divided city, similar in nature to Crucible and Bliss. However, the flame has not been lit in many years. And this is the flame which the Champion must carry to New Sheoth. Nothing short of a major miracle will convince one party to lay down arms, so either a compromise must be forged, or the two parties will do battle over the Alters, once and for all._

* * *

Grakedrig Ulfri stood in the centre of a large, secure looking room deep within the heart of the Alter of Despair section of Cylarne. She looked around herself with a look of satisfaction on her face, a look of satisfaction at carefully laid plans and traps and an assurance that this day would see the end of the Saints in Cylarne.

On spotting the mortal her smile vanished and was replaced by a look of bemusement and annoyance. What was a mortal doing in Cylarne at this time? Surely Sheogorath had not sent word to spare the Auriel. That would be disgraceful. Then her eyes fell upon the figure next to him and she tensed noticeably.

The pair were led into the room by Stela, the internal gate guard who held the keys to the doors within Despair. She had met them at the first door they had come to and escorted them through the dark passageways of Cylarne into this central chamber. Traps meant for the Auriel had been set up along the passageway and even Nerte could only spot a few of them, they were so cunningly placed, even with her Voidgazer spell. It was unlikely Finn had even noticed any of them, she thought, or he probably would have said something. The passageway opened up onto a large, open corridor like room two stories tall spanned by a bridge. They were led up a dusty looking stone staircase and through an iron gate and into the largest room yet. Nerte swung her gaze around the room and saw Ulfri. The Mazken had not changed in the slightest.

Ulfri had once been Nerte's prime rival for Syl's favor. However, Nerte had been chosen over Ulfri as her personal assassin, and Ulfri had forever resented it, being resigned to an ordinary life among the Mazken – as a soldier. Apparently though, thought Nerte she has risen through the ranks and now commands at Cylarne… quite impressive. There was then, a possibility that after all this time anger at Nerte had passed from her…

Stela stepped sideways to stand beside the doorway. When Finn looked at her, inquiringly she simply pointed at Ulfri, who was striding over towards them. Finn muttered a thanks and turned to face her.

Ulfri glowered at Nerte, and then ignored her. "What does our Lord Sheogorath command?" she asked the mortal.

"Sheogorath sent me to light the alters," he said. "I have heard that today the Saints will attempt to force you from Despair. To light the alters apparently one side needs to win here, so I've decided to help you win this battle." He turned to Nerte and went to introduce her. "This is…"

Nerte interrupted him, "We've met."

"Right," said Finn, and stopped short. Something odd here, he thought. Ulfri's expression, Nerte's tone. Old enemies he guessed. After all, someone would have to rub off someone else in the thousands of years Daedra lived. Just take Jyggalag and Sheogorath for example.

"Well mortal," grunted the Mazken "You have indeed come at an opportune time. You will be able to fight alongside us and take part in our final capture of the Alter of Rapture after the Auriel are defeated. They will arrive shortly I believe. I have ordered Vika to leave her post at the external gate – she and Stela will bar up the passages behind them. When we succeed I myself will light the Alters, and you can return the flame to New Sheoth…"

She broke off from what she was saying, as a deep, resounding boom echoed around out of the passageway they had just left and around the room in which they stood. The room suddenly buzzed with activity. Mazken which Finn hadn't even seen in the shadows rushed to their posts, those with bows running out onto the wide bridge above the external corridor and forming up into a bristling dark silver tipped mass. The iron gate was barred by two Mazken, and a huddle of about two dozen with swords rushed to the gate, apparently for when it was broken down… Shield and mace wielding Mazken, supported by warriors with massive pikes began to march away down a large corridor at the far end of the room – apparently it doubled back and was the same passage which was spanned by the bridge.

Nerte snatched up a Dark bow and quiver, strapped the arrows across her back and raced out to join those on the bridge. Finn followed her, with barely a glance back at Ulfri, who watched the action with a satisfied smile on her face.

She had been planning this for so long now. The Auriel might realise they are walking into a trap, she thought, but they are also walking into a slaughter…

The booms continued to ring out as Finn reached the bridge. Now, peering through the ranks of Mazken he could see the source. At the far end of the passageway a massive gateway was quivering.

Boom, boom, boom.

Apparently the Saints were trying to batter it down he thought.

Nerte held her bow loosely in her hand, an arrow notched into it. She strained her eyes to see, her Voidgazer spell allowing her to pick out fine details. There. The doors were about to give. Fractures appeared around the centre and where the beam barred the back of the door. Suddenly, with an earsplitting splintering roar the door burst open. The golden tip of a battering ram punched through it, and then the Auriel themselves poured into the corridor. The front row of Mazken loosed their arrows, into the massed crowd of Auriel, and then kneeled down, allowing the row behind them to fire over their heads. The arrows whistled away, Nerte's among them. Many arrows bounced off plate armour or Golden shields, but some of them found their mark, a number of Auriel dropping to the ground. With a surge of satisfaction Nerte saw her own arrow strike a killing wound on an enemy Auriel.

Towards the rear of the Auriel forces Golden crossbows began to appear. Slower, and much larger than bows, the crossbows did however carry far greater power, and would easily pierce even Mazken armour. Mazken around her began to duck for cover behind the low walls of the bridge while re-notching their bows, and she saw more than one evil looking crossbow bolt send a Mazken's soul spinning back to the Wellspring.

Nerte heard a clamour approaching from behind them and spun around, keeping low. The Mazken tower shields and pikes were encroaching along the wide passage, blocking it from side to side. She turned back to the Auriel forces running towards them. The battering ram was making its way up the stairs to the iron gate, carried by a dozen or so Auriel. She notched her bow again, aimed and loosed the arrow. It hit one of the two front ram carriers in the neck between her helm and armour and she fell to the ground, the heavy ram dragging the rest of the row sideways with it.

Lightning spells surged back and forth between those not armed with bows – These were not really life threatening to magic resistant Daedra like the Auriel and the Mazken though.

And then the battles met.

Beneath the bridge the clang of swords on shields rang out as the Auriel charged headlong into the Mazken shield wall. Nerte dropped lightly down into the fray, drawing her daggers and stabbing at the nearest Auriel. As she looked around, she saw Mazken dropping pikes and shields and drawing their maces – despite heavy casualties to the Auriel, their mad headlong charge at the Mazken formation _had_ broken through it. A sword swung past her head, she ducked and rolled away, almost being trampled on. She sprung back to her feet and found herself face to face with another Auriel. She hastily caught a sword swing between her two blades in a cross shaped blocking motion and staggered back slightly under the weight of the blow. She spun sideways and attacked the Auriel from her left, moving too quickly for the Auriel to even register. Amongst the fighting she suddenly found herself wondering – _Where is Adriana?_


	16. The Underdeep

* * *

**The Underdeep**

* * *

_Cylarne was built with an ordered system of canals and sewers. Sheogorath executed the engineer who built them but kept them, nevertheless. This system has deteriorated greatly over thousands of years and today is known as the Underdeep. Half is 'controlled' or at least managed by each of the two groups and an uneasy truce stands within it. It is an unexploited weakness, which both sides have chosen to ignore. Until now…_

Adriana tripped over a loose brick in the dark and cursed. Mirel had allowed them a light spell scarcely better than a flickering candle to ambush the Dark Seducer forces guarding the Underdeep. He wanted it done quietly. Adriana had barely been able to resist telling him he'd make a better Mazken than an Auriel but had just remembered that he was still her commanding officer. The only male in Cylarne, he had somehow managed to rise to leadership. Aurmazl Kaneh had finally been convinced with Adriana's support that an attack through the Underdeep while attacking through the passage would easily defeat the Mazken. However, Adriana had not expected to be placed under Mirel's command… She had expected the attack to proceed with a headlong charge through the Underdeep, blinding light biting at the enemy before they struck… Not this damned creeping around…

Mirel had apparently stopped again. The entire body of troops ground to a halt at his command, and Adriana could dimly see his short figure hefting his crossbow. There was a whistling sound, and a nearby saint fell to the ground, a dark arrow in her neck. Adriana could see the Mazken archer in the gloom about to back away to get reinforcements, when Mirel's crossbow hummed in response. With a barely audible gasp the Mazken's soul slipped away into the Waters of Oblivion. Apparently the Mazken were still unaware of this secondary attack though the Underdeep. Perhaps Mirel's idea of a quiet attack was not as bad as Adriana had at first supposed. They were practically at the Alter of Despair now….

* * *

Nerte delved into the back of her mind to try and see through Adriana's eyes – to see where she was. She snapped back out of it when she spotted a golden blade flashing towards her face. She ducked, and the blade skimmed off the top of her Mazken Helmet, sparks bursting into existence. She stabbed rather wildly at the Mazken in front of her and when she jumped backwards Nerte dived back into the ranks of the Mazken. Amidst the swirling black horde she felt slightly more relaxed – as relaxed as she could be on a battlefield at any rate. She felt for Adriana's presence. Hot and angry, it was not difficult.

A Mazken guard falls to the ground, a crossbow shaft in her chest. Adriana looks around in the dimness of a large, dark passageway. A small doorway inscribed with the symbols of the Mazken Guard of Cylarne. The Auriel around her move towards it, headed by a small figure. A male. Adriana feels a surge of dislike, but also a growing respect for him. The doorway opens up onto a large square room, which would look like a blocky horseshoe from above. An Alter. The Alter of Despair…

Nerte broke out of Adriana's mind in shock. She leapt up, and was running. If Ulfri did not know this, Cylarne would surely fall to the Auriel.

Finn stood at the gate with the Mazken guarding it. They had at first tried to hold the battering ram off the gate, but when Auriel Crossbows had moved up into position behind the gate they had been unable to hold that attempt. Now they stood in position behind the stonework around the gate. He looked around himself. Around a dozen Mazken held formation with him, expressions ranging from grim to even irritated.

* * *

Boom, Boom.

Slowly, the metal gate buckled under the weight of the golden tipped ram. Then, with a screech of metal it finally gave way. One side of the gate bent inwards on its hinges, while the other side simply flew away and landed with a rocking crash on the ground several paces away from the gateway itself. Finn drew his iron blade, and the sound of his sword sliding from its sheath was accompanied by that of the Mazken around him drawing their swords as well. The first Saint who flung herself through the doorway, large shield raised was met with a flurry of blades from the Seducers on the other side. She dropped back, ducking, and crossbow bolts flew in over her, bouncing off Mazken amour, and zooming across the room.

Another two Auriel rushed forward, lightning spells sizzling through the air. Finn reached his longsword forward, catching the heavy blow of a Golden Longsword with ease, and flipping his wrist up in such a way that the sword flew from her hand. Angrily, the Saint cast around for her weapon, and, not seeing it, caught his next blow on her armored forearm, and swung her left fist at his head. Not expecting this, he almost dropped his own sword, and had to jump backwards as her fist rushed at his nose. She missed, and he slashed at her, the blow glancing off her amour and cutting into her on an angle, badly wounding her. She stumbled backwards out of sight, and was replaced by another Saint.

Finn felt Duskfang burning across his back seconds before an insane desire to use it. He hated the sword – why would he want to draw the damned thing in battle now? He ignored the sword and continued to fight his battle, attempting to stay on the offensive against the Auriel. If he had to block their blows he would lose. Each blow was like a ton of bricks falling on his sword arm.

He heard someone shouting for Ulfri… It sounded like Nerte, but he couldn't be sure. He turned round towards her and one of the Saints took her chance and swung wildly at him. The flat of her blade caught him on the side of the head and he staggered forwards, away from her. The saint was met by a Mazken who stepped sideways to take Finn's place. Finn's vision blurry he looked up and saw Nerte and Ulfri with a small group of Mazken racing towards the Alter of Despair. They were nearly at the gate to the Alter, when he saw it. The door exploded. Blue flames licked out around the heavy gate and it flew across the room. It clipped a Mazken, slamming her backwards. The Mazken scattered, as a golden tide swept through in the wake of the blue maelstrom. A dazzling light burst forth and swept even the shadows away before it.

The figure that could only be Adriana, taller than even the rest of the Auriel. She swung her longsword, and caught a Mazken trying to block the blow. The Mazken's arm was forced out of the way and the sword caught her across the chest and knocked her off her feet and pushed her into Nerte. Adriana looked down at Nerte on the ground. Ignoring the rest of the battlefield Adriana threw her sword from her right to left hand and raised her right hand, preparing to through lightning at her. Nerte vanished from sight, an invisibility spell hiding her, and she rolled out of the way of the spell. Adriana swung her sword in the air above Nerte's head, but Nerte was already gone. Adriana looked around angrily and then turned to hit another Mazken. Mazken from the other end of the battle were arriving to combat the new force, but it was obvious that they were falling backwards before the Auriel. The Mazken had lost their advantage and were outnumbered, the attack coming from both sides. Nerte reappeared beside Ulfri and blocked a blow aimed at the back of her head and stabbed the Auriel who had attacked her. For seconds they fought, back to back, and then stepped apart and focused themselves on the battle around them.

* * *

A wall of Mazken still stood, but for how long it was uncertain. Adriana could be still seen sweeping around herself, her enemies backing away under her blows. The Auriel around her fought beneath her light, and the Mazken seemed to falter under it. Nerte pulled herself out of the battle and ran lightly back to the bridge and snatched up a fallen bow and pulled an arrow from the quiver still strapped to her back. She took careful aim across the room at the tallest figure. The arrow loosed and sped across the room, rebounding off golden amour.

"By Dagon…" she muttered as the catlike eyes swung up and focused on her. Lightning knocked her off her feet, and she heard the pounding of Adriana racing her way again. Then Nerte heard a whistling sound and a blade swung out of nowhere, searing frost aimed for Adriana. Adriana checked herself and started backwards, bringing her longsword up and parrying the vicious blow, and it glanced off above her head. Before she could think another swing came towards her, and she only just caught it. Above the cold blade she saw the features of the champion.

Finn's blade flashed out again and again, faster than even Nerte's eyes could follow. Adriana was forced to block the demented blade again and again, only just managing to keep it off her. She found herself in a position she had not been in for some years – a position where she felt she may lose a fight. Not that she felt terribly worried, but more surprised. Afterall, Finn's blade could not truly kill her…

Finn had reached for the sword across his back in a daze. He was barely conscious and had understood only that the sword would give him the strength to defeat the great warrior who strode in, undefeatable. Adriana. The sword empowered him, rose him to fight and filled him with the strength, speed and skill of all those it had devoured since its forging. He swung again and again, in a berserk attack, not really in control of himself, knowing only the sight and sound of the battle around him.

Suddenly Adriana stumbled under his attacks and Finn, or Duskfang itself, drove the weapon home.

Duskfang fed.

Finn pulled away from the saint as she collapsed down onto the floor and he himself stumbled. Realising finally what had happened, that in weakness he had drawn the evil sword he let it fall from his hand. The clang of the sword falling to the ground was lost in the clatter of the battle around, and without its strength supporting him, Finn himself fell after it, and into darkness.


	17. The Cold Flame of Agnon

**The Cold Flame of Agnon**

* * *

_The Flame of Agnon has forever burned in the Isles in some form or another. Its blaze was originally kept and maintained within Cylarne as this was the original Capital of the Isles. However, Lord Sheogorath, in his infinite wisdom did not move the source of the flames when he built New Sheoth. Thus, at the end of every cycle of Greymarch, the flame which went out at the beginning of the invasion must be re-lit and transported back to the __Sacellum Arden-Sul where the beacon of New Sheoth is kindled in Sheogorath's honor._

* * *

Nerte had laid Finn out as comfortably as she could on the cold stone slab that the Mazken of Cylarne had used to sleep on. She had also found his gear and pack and brought it over, and placed them near him. The sword, Duskfang still lay on the ground where it had been dropped. She had tried to pick it up and it had frozen her fingers, even through her armored gauntlets, so the sword remained where it was. Not a drop of blood marred its surface, as though it had been sucked away, devoured by the sword itself.

She sat up sharply. There it was again. She was, bizarrely still feeling Adriana's presence – as though she lived still. She could understand this if Adriana had fallen to any other blade. But she now recognized Duskfang for what it really was. A soul blade, which devoured all, life and soul alike. Adriana could not possibly live any more. Once again, as at their parting of ways she felt surprised that this bothered her, even upset her. They should have been mortal enemies despite their temporary allegiance… She shrugged off the feeling. Perhaps it was as a phantom limb – she would continue to feel it for some time, perhaps indefinitely.

Before her Finn stretched out and raised his head. He opened his eyes and looked around, looking a little groggy.

"How are you feeling, Finn, Champion?" asked Nerte quietly.

"I've been better" he muttered. "By the Nine, I feel like a bloody great ogre whacked me on the head with a mallet. What happened? A Saint get the better of me did she?"

Nerte pointed at Duskfang, lying on the ground mere meters away. "That happened. You drew the sword and fought like a madman – then you collapsed." And probably gave the Mazken their victory she added to herself. As much as she might regret it – the sword had been the only thing that could face Adriana that night.

Finn paused, and rubbed his head, trying to remember what had happened. And then it all came rushing back. Adriana. Duskfang, fighting for him, through him, as him… That damn weapon destroying her, devouring a soul… He had decided never to draw the thing and yet he had.

Cylarne stretched away above him, a great arching ceiling. The three crossed Dark Blades banner of the Mazken still hung all around. So, the Mazken had been victorious after all had they? He looked back to Nerte and asked how the Mazken had fared to take his mind off what he had done. Afterall, it hadn't really been his fault had it?

Before Nerte could answer him Ulfri appeared behind her. "Thanks perhaps to you" said Ulfri "the Mazken were victorious. However, as pleasing as it may be to reminisce on the Battle of Cylarne more important matters are at hand. If you are indeed from Sheogorath he must not be kept waiting. Even now I go to light the Alter of Despair. I will sacrifice myself upon the holy flame to re-kindle it…"

She broke off and laughed at the look on Finn's face. "Do not fear for me, mortal. While it is a great honor it is not as if I will not be re-born."

Ulfri placed a hand on Nerte's shoulder and roughly turned her around. Nerte jumped back almost as if expecting an attack, and Ulfri laughed again. "Because we were once friends and due to your performance during the battle I am offering you the chance to re-kindle the Alter of Rapture."

Surprised, Nerte frowned momentarily and then had to smile. What an opportunity – to become part of the Flame even if only symbolically for eternity. She could not turn down such an opportunity when offered, even if from one who had once been her enemy. "It would be my pleasure" she said after a short pause. Finn looked at her like she was mad, but nevertheless she was going to. And perhaps her re-birth would remove the phantom Adriana still imposing upon her mind.

"Alright then Nerte…" said Ulfri loudly, ignoring Finn completely as he sat up and went to get to his feet. Ulfri motioned with her hand and Stela stepped forwards, an ornate looking Dark Longsword in her hands. Nerte carefully took the blade from her and the scabbard with it and strapped it on. "… You know the way," continued Ulfri, "I will first light Despair. When the word comes you may light Rapture and the Flame will be re-born." She turned then to Finn. "Champion it has been an honor to fight alongside you and to see the fall of the Saints in Cylarne. You will always be shown respect here even among those who do not see males as… worthy of respect."

With this seemingly her goodbye she turned on her heel and with an escort of four other Mazken strode from the room and down the passageway towards the Alter of Despair.

All the way out through the passages of Cylarne, through the great metal gates and then out into the courtyard Finn did not speak. He was somewhat dizzy, not just from his headache. He remembered something Sheogorath had spouted to him right before he'd set off on this mad quest. _Ye'll be taking steps that make ye feel dizzy. _Well, he'd sure been right about that. But he certainly didn't seem to be learning to like the way it felt, as Sheogorath had promised him he would. Things certainly seemed to be taking a downhill slide after a brief peak. Now, he had already lost one of the two companions he had been allotted, in fact had killed her himself and now the other one was about to sacrifice herself. _I suppose I should have expected it _he thought glumly. In this place nothing does last.

Nerte sat down on arriving at the Alter of Rapture, were Saint banners had been torn down and replaced by those of the Mazken, their darker tones better complimenting the tones of Cylarne's masonry. The stone bench was cold, but easier than standing, especially after the long day. She would have had to rest soon, even as a Daedra. But now there was no need. The prickling in the back of her mind seemed to be growing stronger as she grew more tired.

"Why?" she heard Finn ask. "Why in Oblivion would a nice young…" he paused here a moment, and decided on "… person like you want to go killing yourself?" In response to this she could only laugh, and she answered with a smile. "Finn – remember, as Ulfri said that I cannot truly die…"

Other than by Duskfang he thought dark humouredly.

Nerte had kept talking "…and this is something that any Mazken would want. Anyway, Finn, what age have you reached?"

Hmm, what's with this question? Ah well, he thought. "I'm 28."

"Well," she said, "remember that I am 981 years old. Do I look quite so young now?"

Finn looked almost like he was going to choke on something. "You're not kidding, are you? No, of course you're not. Damned Daedra, what am I thinking, hey?"

At that moment Stela appeared and beckoned to Nerte. Nerte was already standing, as she had heard the Mazken clomping across the yard before she came through the iron gate.

Evidently Ulfri had already sacrificed herself, and her soul was now swimming in the Waters of Oblivion. Nerte seemed to thank and dismiss the other Mazken, who took up a position at the gate. Then she turned to face Finn, and spoke: "We _will _meet again, Champion. Meet me at Sickly Bernice's in Crucible five days from now." She sounded as if she were saying goodbye for the night, not like she was about to die.

Before Finn could even respond she stepped backwards into the Alter of Rapture and pulled the long blade and in one fluid motion impaled herself upon it. Nerte gasped quietly as orange-red flames burst forth from the wound and licked around it. And then the Alter ignited into a massive flaming torch. Searing heat fell upon Finn's skin and he backed away from the awe inspiring pillar of heat which Nerte had become.

Smoke billowed away into the sky and he saw a glare erupt in the middle courtyard – the flame had re-ignited.

He was on his own again.

He sat and watched the flames.


	18. The Sacellum ArdenSul

* * *

**The Sacellum Arden-Sul**

* * *

_Clearly the Nine are not worshipped in the Shivering Isles. A far more relevant and real god rules over the inhabitants of the Isles, he is Sheogorath, the Madgod. The Sacellum Arden-Sul is a chapel like structure devoted to Arden-Sul, Sheogorath himself and the beauty and wonder of the Isles. As with all of the country it is divided, with some favouring a manic view while others favour the demented side of things._

Sheogorath beamed down at him from his great throne. Two colours, green and red assailed the eyes from all sides of the court, the division between the two lands apparent.

"How are ye, me wee little laddie?" he roared jovially. "I presume you succeeded. Otherwise ye must have a good reason for bein' here. Or you're really lacking in good judgement!" he exclaimed angrily.

Without waiting for Finn to answer he continued, "Of course you've done it!" Positively beaming he stood up from his throne and stepped down towards Finn. "I can see the flame all over ye. Just listen to that merry crackling of flames and bones… Well, perhaps not the bones. Wonderful!" he declared, his voice echoing around the hall. "Time for a celebration! Cheese for everyone!" he frowned momentarily and said almost wearily. "No, wait, scratch the cheese." Hopefully almost he went on, "Just as much as a call for celebration if you don't like cheese, no?" Behind him Haskill raised an eyebrow, and Finn pretended not to notice.

Sheogorath paused momentarily and then his eyes brightened happily as if he'd remembered what he had been saying. "Well what are ye waiting for? Didn't I tell ye to get down to the Sacellum Arden-Sul?"

"No my Lord, you didn't…" Finn began cautiously. Luckily Sheogorath was swinging towards the positive shade of madness at that moment and he shrugged and simply said. "Maybe I did, but I didn't. Maybe ye didn't hear me properly, or maybe ye did, but you've just forgotten. Maybe it doesn't really matter anyway." With this speech he placed a hand on Finn's shoulder.

There was a greenish red flash and the throne room vanished. There was a spiralling sensation as, if he were caught in the funnel of some massive tornado and then his feet hit a hard surface jarringly. Light and colour appeared around him as quickly as they had vanished but he was no longer in the throne room. The comparatively subdued shades of the Sacellum Arden-Sul appeared around him. He recognised the building instantly. It had been one of the first places he had visited upon his arrival in the Isles as he searched for a temple that vaguely resembled one to the Nine. Not that he was terribly religious or anything, but he did believe that the gods existed, in some form or another. Ah well. Not even a reference to the Nine could be found here.

The two 'priests' (Finn had to put this in inverted commas – the pair were so frequently bickering and carrying on in the most unpriestly fashion) were standing between the two pulpits of the Temple screaming at each other about something. No-one else was in the temple – they had no doubt been driven out by the noise.

"Ah, Dervenin, Arctus, how go ye?" asked Sheogorath loudly, if not somewhat pointedly. The priests had stopped mid argument with each other and looked at each other. They both knew only one person had a voice like that. Simultaneously their heads swung around to take in their visitor. He did not often leave his palace, let alone stop by for a social call.

Both priests assumed more dignified poses and attempted to forget the other was their. Both looked like they couldn't possibly imagine why their Lord was here, but knew whatever it was, it had been the other one's fault. And then Dervenin's eyes drifted across to Finn. The Manic priest drew breath sharply and excitedly upon seeing the flames wreathing around his body. Spluttering somewhat in astonishment the priest pointed at the Cold Flame.

"The flame?" asked Arctus in amazement, but not putting on quite the show of his manic counterpart. "How is this possible? Is Greymarch not upon us?"

"Face the flames, little mortal" replied Sheogorath rather merrily. "Greymarch may be upon us, but New Sheoth will shine like a leaping fish before the advancing hordes of Order. Or is that a beacon of hope? Hmm… Nevertheless, a fish, or a beacon the point is that my Champion has returned with the flame directly from Cylarne and he's going to re-light it. Or a least he's supposed to. You never know what wonderful fun I could have if he didn't…" he finished off sinisterly. "But," he cheerfully continued "He _will _because that's why he's here…" He turned to Finn, and ignoring the flames pushed the Imperial forward with a hand on the small of his back. "Choice time – who gets the light? Mania or Dementia?"

"What?" asked Finn, sounding surprised. No-one had told _him _he was expected to choose which side to support. And he wouldn't do it in person if he had a choice. With those two priests staring at him he'd rather have chosen from a great distance away. While one was shaking his hand and thanking him wildly for having chosen him, the other would be planning how to get his own back, preferably with some particularly nasty poison or a knife. Ah well, he'd better choose. While it mightn't be wise to annoy this pair it was far wiser than annoying the Madgod. Dementia, his mind settled upon. He'd come this far with Dementia now, he'd light the flame for them as well.

"I'll light Dementia's flame" he said. He said it loudly and clearly, so that there could be no doubt between the priests which side of the room and which alter he meant.

The priest of Dementia grinned in a most un-demented fashion. "This way, my friend" he proclaimed almost cheerfully in a deep, slow voice.

"But you can't do that!" barked Arctus angrily.

Oh, here we go, thought Finn dismally. Now we have two months of arguments between these two and in the end, whoever wins gets their flame lit. Surprise, surprise. A third voice rang out. "Give it a rest why don't ye Arctus? Go sit your self down and drop a brick on you're little head. Or shall I do it for ye?"

"But…" began Arctus, sounding unsure of himself, and without much force behind his words. It was, as all knew, unwise to upset a Madgod. He could tear your arm off.

"But nothin', ye little priesty. The Champion's chosen, and NOTHING ye say is going to change his mind now… If he does, I'll personally see to it that something nasty happens to him, because I HATE indecisive people. Except myself of course. I'm the most wonderfully decisively indecisive being, don't ye think?

Arctus backed away into a corner, forced into silence. Happily, Finn realised that the path was open, and with a wave from Sheogorath a grate in front of what seemed to be a glorified fireplace swung open. Beside it Dervenin stood patiently. Finn stepped into the fireplace. At first, nothing happened and then there was a whoosh. Dervenin was knocked backwards, and Finn was flung headfirst out of the fireplace. He landed, heavily and the wind was knocked from him. When he sat up, after what seemed like an age, the prickling feeling had gone from his skin. The roaring flame of Agnon swirled less than a metre away from his face, but at least it no longer encompassed him. He hadn't liked carrying the flame at all – when Haskill had told him to step into the fire he hadn't really believed it. But the fire hadn't been hot, just like bad pins-and-needles in a foot that has gone to sleep. Despite this, he was glad to be rid of it. Speaking of being rid of things… Dawnfang hung heavily across his back, a weight he meant to be rid of. He couldn't just leave the sword lying around, but he _would _talk to Sheogorath about it…

He backed away from the sudden chill of the flame. Without the warmth of the flame of Mania, the Cold Flame of Agnon truly lived up to its name. Almost suddenly shivering, he moved quickly away, and was almost instantly rounded up by Dervenin. The priest carried in his arms a dark, silvery robe with a large hood on it, which he presented to Finn.

"Nightshroud, this is" said the man. "It is a gift for re-lighting Arden-Sul's flame for Dementia. No doubt it will serve you well. The prophesy of Arden-Sul is sewn into its hem..." Dervenin shook out the folds of the long, free flowing robe and held it out. "They're quite rare."

Finn had to assume it was a magical garment of some type, but couldn't be sure. "Umm," he began, wanting to ask without sounding stupid, "So, what's it do?"

Dervenin looked at him like he was stupid. So, I failed there, thought Finn… "It shrouds one in the night, of course…"

"So, it's like an invisibility cloak…," Finn began hesitantly. He'd seen one of these once before, back in Tamriel. An old friend of his had one, and the thing was very useful. Its only weakness was dogs and Zombies. (It appeared that Zombies, the majority of them headless in any case had to rely on senses available only to the Undead, and ignored the cloak completely)

"No, not at all," said Dervenin dismissively, before admitting "Well, partially perhaps. The Nightshroud absorbs light. It will only work when there is very little light to absorb, so, at night, or perhaps in a cave… In bright light, it simply appears to be a black robe, or even in dim light such as here. Regardless, I have no doubt it will serve you well, particularly in your coming task…Champion."

"So ye think ye knows what his next task may be, do ye?" asked Sheogorath cheerfully. "Maybe ye do, maybe ye don't. Anyhow, it's for me to tell my champion his tasks, not ye Dervenin. And if ye do I'll find out and get angry. Ye wouldn't like me when I'm angry…" he concluded, his tone deep and threatening. Dervenin backed off into the opposite corner as Arctus, and silently met his glare.

"Alrighty, then me little Champion!" shouted Sheogorath. "Time for an update on your next task – or is that the weather? No, definitely your next task… Come over here and I'll tell ye…" said Sheogorath, beckoning. "You're going to love this, I bet…"

Why did this not comfort him…


	19. Sickly Bernice's

**Sickly Bernice's**

* * *

_Sickly Bernice's is an inn and taphouse deep in the heart of Crucible. Few visitors stay the night, as the beds are riddled with lice and other pests, but rather enter Bliss for a more peaceful night. The taphouse, however, is frequented by locals wishing for a drink of local ale or mushroom nectar. (In fact, this is a drink made from the crushed spores of Mushroom trees mixed with a variety of liquids) The inn is a perfect spot to find marauders, cutthroats, mercenaries and even the odd heretic._

* * *

The door to Sickly Bernice's taphouse lay slightly ajar, perhaps not fitting entirely squarely upon the rusted old hinges that held it up. Dryrot was beginning to creep into the door and surrounding frame, and a large tree grew up the side of the building, its roots sinking deep into the surrounding paving and cracking bricks aside and out of square with the rest of the street – if they were ever in square in the first place.

Finn grimaced and pushed the door open with a jarring creak. He could hear the faint noises again now, now that the crackling of the Cold Flame had vanished. The flame had been quite disconcerting while he wore it.

A piece of rust flaked off one of the uppermost hinges and fell to the ground with a faint tinkling sound. The sound of the taphouse filtered through, soft subdued sounds, much quieter than the inside of the majority of inns he had visited before. Almost as quiet as the Inn of Ill Omen, but not quite. And yet this was apparently Dementia's finest. Then again, the Demented were on the whole a quiet mob. He would be prepared to bet a fair bit that at this time of day a taphouse in Mania would be throbbing with activity. He'd only been in here once or twice and that had been early on in the day and the only occupant had been Bernice herself, who was a little of putting to say the least. She seemed to believe that she had some horrible disease, and Finn wasn't getting too close without proof that she didn't. Regardless, this was where Nerte had told him she'd meet him. Finn stepped inside and made his way deeper into the taphouse and looked around himself. The low, dark tables were lit by flickering torchlight which lent the whole place an eerie quality. Several tables were occupied and Finn let his gaze slide across them. Several men huddled together at one table and were apparently talking about the man across from them. The man was heavily built and the skin that Finn could see beneath a dark robe was a reddish blue and appeared unlike any he'd seen before, except – no, not here… He let his eyes continue to meander, not wanting to be caught staring at some, no doubt Daedra, that he didn't recognise. Some of the Daedra species could be quite unpredictable and easily provoked. Another two he dismissed, a Kajiit and an Orc with a large mangy looking dog and he was about to turn around and leave but thought better of it. He sat down at his own bench, and decided to wait for a while. Regardless of whether Nerte turned up or not he really needed to stop and think for a while… He had already had a lot on his mind what with the death of Adriana and the sacrifice of Nerte. Now, not only had Sheogorath refused to take Duskfang off him, (The Madgod had almost had a fit when he saw it and had lapsed into a moment of soberness. _A Daedra killer_, he'd muttered grimly _Keep that thing away from or you'll find yourself hangin' several hundred meters above Sacrifice Point_) but he had also let Finn in on what his next task was to be, and he disliked it as much as he thought he might. The Madgod had decided that he must replace either the Duke of Mania or the Duchess of Dementia. Replacing either one of them would need the death of his predecessor. He had decided that with his past career for the Madgod he may as well replace Syl, but this would require an assassination. When it all boiled down he wasn't an assassin, in no shape nor form. He'd also questioned Dervenin about the prophesy of Arden-Sul of the end of the cycle of Order he'd mentioned and that was sewn into the hem of his Nightshroud. Apparently Order would end when the Shades of Madness united with Fire, Frost and Lightning. Whatever that was supposed to mean…

A bright flash caught his eye, so out of place in this dungeon and he looked up. He had seen the sheen of polished steel. One of the four men at the table opposite him had silently drawn a shortsword, and as Finn watched two more of the men drew blades, short and ugly looking daggers, while the third hefted a nasty chunk of wood. They were pointing and muttering about the Daedra Finn had seen when he first entered. They didn't look happy. Apparently the Daedra hadn't seen them, or at least he offered no reaction when the four men stood quietly and stepped towards him.

At this moment, Finn stood up and asked them what the Oblivion they thought they were doing, and that Sheogorath's champion commanded them to stop. Why not? May as well throw the title around a bit... Not a wise move, as apparently these four didn't like Sheogorath. The leader with the sword stopped momentarily as he was about to lunge at the Daedra's back and sneered at Finn. "What does a heretic care for Sheogorath's champion?" Now he too had apparently made a mistake, for the taphouse was filled with deadly silence. While heretics were tolerated, arrogant heretics lived short lives. The other part of his mistake was taking his eyes off the Daedra for a second, who with a speed belying his size suddenly spun around and, whipping a wicked looking iron mace with reddish edges on it out from under his robe, whacked the leader of the heretic band on the head. The man went down with a thud and his fellow heretics backed away from the Daedra. One of them looked like he was going to throw his knife, and Finn moved up behind him and kicked the knife out of his hand. Two of the other denizens of the taphouse suddenly jumped up behind the second knife man and clonked him on the head with a massive ale jug and he joined his leader out cold as well. The first knifeman, seeing his knife on the ground and Finn between him and it, longsword drawn sat back heavily in a wooden chair and gestured defeat.

Meanwhile, the fourth heretic had picked up the shortsword of the first man, and was now creeping up behind the Daedra, who was glowering down at the man in the chair. Finn brought his sword up and parried a hasty blow which the heretic aimed at the back of the Daedra's head. The Daedra turned quickly and stepped backwards, while Finn flicked the shortsword from the man's hand with a practised sword stroke. The Daedra went to hit the man, but before he could, a cold, black blade blocked his mace.

"We'll handle it from here" hummed the voice of a Dark Seducer. "They will be sent to one of the Isles dungeons. They will not be back for many days – if they survive at all of course… Stand aside, Demora" she growled at the Daedra. The dark robed Daedra faded back into the shadows, keeping well out of the way of the Mazken guards as they rounded up the two conscious heretics and carried the other two out onto the street and away.

A Demora? Here?, thought Finn. The Demora were the race that served Mehrunes Dagon; that much he knew. Regardless, Nerte hadn't turned up yet; it was time to be going… At that moment he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder and he spun around, prepared to face a new threat if necessary… It was the Demora. He had his hood back now, and Finn recognised him easily as a Demora now – he'd fought them at Kvatch. He shook aside the memory. That was all gone now… Finn took his hand from his sword and asked "What?"

The voice that answered him sounded like what a voice box solely made from razor blades, blackboards and fingernails would sound like. "I am Na'kynaz. I am of Dagon, but now serve the champion, the Champion of Sheogorath who saved my life."

Finn could only repeat himself at this statement, only somewhat louder this time. "What?" He then expanded somewhat. "I didn't really save you though…"

"Yes you did, Finn Cro'hagan" interrupted a third voice, the voice of a Mazken. She appeared stealthily out of the shadows and Finn saw she was one of the four guards who had entered the taphouse to arrest the Heretics. But was she? "Hello again Finn," she said, and he recognised her voice. Nerte… but different. Not only was her hair short, like that of the other Mazken, but her face had changed, her features somewhat finer and she appeared somewhat younger. "I thought you might not recognise me," she continued, "re-birth at the Wellspring gives one a new body – not the old one back… and so naturally I appear different."

Recovering quickly from the surprise of seeing that Nerte re-born looked different, he spoke "I'm so glad to see you… There is so much going on to talk about…"

He went to leave the taphouse with her but stopped and turned around when he heard heavy footsteps following them.

"I am coming with you, Champion" said the Demora solemnly "I will repay the debt by protecting you until I feel it is fulfilled."

Finn replied, sounding perhaps a little strained. "You don't have to do that. It's not that I don't want you to, but a big guy with horns on his head and reddish skin tends to stand out… In fact, from what I've seen you're not too popular around here…"

"I will not be a problem," replied Na'kynaz, pulling the hood up over his head.

Finn shrugged and turned, hurrying out of the taphouse after Nerte, who strode on ahead. The Demora trailed along behind. Finn decided he'd talk to him later, maybe he'd be able to convince him to rack off. Later. Hopefully.


	20. It Isn't Actually Paranoia

**It isn't Actually Paranoia…**

* * *

_Lady Syl is Duchess of Dementia. She also is a paranoid Wood Elf who believes that the whole world is out to get her. She is constantly uncovering plots against her, a few real, most imagined. To put it bluntly she would kill her shadow for conspiring against her if she had the option. However, it must be said for her, that of late (Mostly due to a dislike for her paranoid nature, however) she has actually uncovered a number of real plots against her, although it would seem a number of them have been hoaxes to amuse __Thadon._

* * *

Nerte ran lightly through the dark streets of Crucible. Her Voidgazer spell lit the street around her, and she felt cloaked in silence. She once again wore the Mazken Assassin's raiment, as she had before her exile to Tamriel. She smiled to herself, thinking of how Finn had been unable to shake the Demora from about his person. She didn't really like Demora out of principle, but you had to give them this – they were as stubborn, pig headed and as… loyal as an Auriel. She shook her head. A complement to the Auriel – who would ever have thought it before Adriana…

She came quickly to a stop, scarcely making a sound, her Mazken armour's boots padded with a slightly weaker than normal armour substance – however, when hit against metal or the ground it was soundless. All the joints in the armour were padded in the same way, giving much the same effect as a well made set of leather armour.

She stopped and looked up at the wall in front of her, which bordered Sheogorath's courtyard. From her belt, feeling rather than looking she swung a rope and grapple and flung it up as high as she could. The grapple came down over the top of the wall with a clunk that sounded very loud to her. She ducked to the ground, seeing the Mazken guard stationed on the stairway guarding the usual entrance to the courtyard turn and look in her direction. Apparently she decided it was nothing, and she looked away. Nevertheless, Nerte tried to be as quiet as she could, and tugged hard on the rope. It gave way on the weight, and the grapple fell down with a clinking sound. Nerte managed to catch the grapple itself, stopping it from clanging loudly. If it had, it probably would have caught the attention of the guard again, only this time strongly…

She threw the grapple up again and this time it held firm. She lifted off the ground, pulling herself up on the rope, mentally cursing her relatively weak muscles. Her new body wasn't yet as strong as she'd like, although Daedric muscles developed faster than those of a mortal. She hadn't felt tired from climbing in a very long time.

Then she was at the top. She grabbed for the rope as it climbed up over the lip of the roof and she swung one leg up onto the roof and then followed through with the rest of her body. She paused, thinking for a moment of the plan she would follow from here. Finn had only been able to tell her one thing – that he would need Syl's heart to continue on as Champion, to defend the realm, so on and so forth (The last bit was what Sheogorath always spouted at any rate)

Since her re-birth her thinking had been fast and clear again – as far as she could tell there was no trace of Adriana remaining in her mind. Where the last bit of soul from her mind had gone she didn't know, but she would imagine it had been burnt up. Well there was no point pondering it. Now she had a new task at hand. She slipped back into the mindset of an assassin, which in reality she had abandoned for some time now. The Champion may very well have come this far – but as he had indeed confessed to her he was no assassin and he had straight up asked her if she could do this for him. She had accepted.

Now she crept along the roof of the right wing of the palace courtyard, and slid silently up towards Syl's palace. Finn had already talked to both Anya Herrick and Kithlan and had been able to give her a reasonable amount of information of the lay of the land, guard positions and even a key to Syl's personal rooms. The pair had been unwilling to divulge anything further that would incriminate them in the even of a failure in the assassination, despite being highly discontent with Syl's rule nowadays. Regardless, the key would no doubt be very useful and it would save her having to break in.

Nerte paused briefly at the end of the roof she had been running along, and jumped up and across to the main roof of Syl's palace. From there she could move easily across to courtyard at the rear of the palace, where an open air courtyard looked like an enticingly easy entrance to Syl's rooms. From there she could simply drop down and unlock the room… But from experience she knew that there would be guards somewhere down there.

A blur of movement in the shadows caught her eye. There was one of the guards, lurking in the deep of the shadows, blending in, now doubt with the aid of some simple spell. All Mazken knew some such spells; the Elite Guard are masters of such spells. No doubt there would be at least two such guards. Nerte silently raised her hand above her head. From the raised hand descended a spiral of bluish light and she vanished. Hopefully the guards had not seen the flash of light…

She leaped to the ground and landed softly, making only the softest sound as her feet hit the ground. Silently she seemed to glide across the courtyard, unnoticed. She slipped her key into the lock, with difficulty managing to maintain concentration on her invisibility spell and slip inside. The passage to the rooms was just as she had remembered from the days when she had received her contracts here, towards the end of her work with the Duchess, before her exile. She pushed back the thin silken curtain which blocked her view of the following room, Syl's personal chamber. She stepped into the room. Syl lay upon her bed, the sheets down and her fine black nightgown visible. Nerte strode over to her, and in one swift motion held the dagger to her throat, but did not cut. The figure on the bed struggled instantly, and Nerte allowed her to sit up, but no more.

"Talk" said Nerte roughly.

Syl looked stunned for a second and then stammered something incomprehensible.

_By Dagon _thought Nerte. She'd feared as much. This was no doubt _not _Syl. Even to death Syl would have had some arrogant, haughty comment ready. She pushed the double down to the bed angrily and tied her wrists and ankles. Syl had known she was coming.

"Freeze, scum" said an angry voice behind her. She slowly turned around, and forced herself to look. The two palace guards stood there. One had her bow levelled at her in a most professional looking manner, an arrow notched into it. The Guard did not like those who got past them. Nerte cast around for some way to escape, and seeing none, slowly raised her hands…


	21. When the Threat is Real

* * *

**…When the Threat is Real**

* * *

_Syl has also created a number of escape plans and networks, including doubles, secret passages, traps as well as extensive use of her prised Elite Guard. Even I know not of all the plans she makes – Only Sheogorath can see the full extent of them, but he cannot usually be bothered._

* * *

The guards glowered at her, and indicated her to come forwards. "No quick moves though, assassin." It seemed not to matter that she was Mazken, they treated her as they would any assassin. That surprised Nerte somewhat, and it showed the loyalty of the Guard to Syl. There would be no convincing them that her death was a good thing, and she doubted they would believe her that Sheogorath desired it, although, somewhat indirectly, he did.

"The dagger, on the floor" said the lead guard, the one without the bow. She drew the dagger and went as if to place it on the floor. However, to the surprise of the Elite Guard she followed her stooping movement through with a speedy forward roll, which carried her behind a table. A dark arrow clunked into the woodwork behind her, where she had been seconds beforehand. In the time she knew it would take the guard to re-notch an arrow she had dived across the bed, and swept up her other dagger, ignoring the tied Syl double. The first guard had drawn a sword and was now rushing towards her. This was a mistake, and Nerte swung her leg in a swinging motion, catching the legs of the first guard. She went crashing to the ground and smashed through a chair as she fell, and didn't stir from her position. The other guard had her bow up, ready to release an arrow. Nerte dodged sideways, and the guard released the arrow wildly. Nerte didn't throw her daggers wildly. Both plunged into the lead guard, who dropped almost instantly. At least re-birth was not painful, thought Nerte. Getting back into condition on the other hand, was annoying.

She looked around the room and saw nothing else threatening. She vanished from sight in a bluish shimmer, not liking to be so easily spotted. Leaving the double behind, she left the room quickly and quietly, trying to think where Syl would go… She didn't really have to search far; the answer was quite obvious, now she was looking. A hole had appeared beneath a bust of Sheogorath. Apparently Syl had a secret passage out of here. Nerte had guessed she must, but had never seen one of them before. Taking a deep breath, knowing that Syl had most likely left something nasty behind if she had known she was being followed, Nerte shimmied down the ancient looking iron ladder into the patiently waiting darkness.

Concentrating on maintaining her invisibility she almost didn't see the first nasty left behind. A hulking shadow sitting off in the darkness of a dead end passage, she recognized the life signature of a massive Scalon, lying in wait, almost as well concealed as her. It had a still visible chain around its neck, which vanished into mid space, and now she was listening for it she could hear the clinking the chains as they rattled together. Nerte had heard rumors that Syl kept a number of these brutes as pets; apparently Herdir had found a way to tame them. Nerte also knew from experience that being invisible was useless against these master hunters. She had found that they could see straight through all manner of invisibility and seemed to act as if their opponents were completely visible. Perhaps they could detect the illusion magic in use, being natural masters of illusion as it was…

Nerte let her illusion spell shimmer out of existence, knowing it would not aid her but that maintaining it would hinder anything she did… Perhaps she could sneak past it the old fashioned way. All she had to do was get out of chain length and she'd be fine. Soundlessly creeping forward, for a second she thought it wasn't going to notice her. And then the corridor was filled with an ear-spitting roar. The Scalon leapt forwards, covering half the distance between them in a single leap. It appeared, its invisibility spell disintegrating as it concentrated its mind upon her. It gathered itself for a killing spring, claws reached out ready to stab and its mouth gaping open, exposing dozens of long hooked teeth. It leapt, and Nerte was ready for it. She dived to the ground and the beast overshot, and, overbalanced it smashed into the wall behind her. Before it could turn she dived forwards and stabbed at it with both her daggers. This seemed to enrage it more than harm it though, and it picked itself up and spun around to face her with much greater agility than she would have imagined that the great lizard like creature possessed. Nerte didn't hang around to find out how fast it was. She took off down the passage, away from it. She groaned mentally as she heard a crash and a rumble of rock as the Scalon broke its chain, and clattered after her. The corridor opened up suddenly onto a more brightly lit room. Syl's second nasty no doubt… A gate crashed down behind her, and a number of surprised looking Mazken Elite guard swung their weapons to bear on her. And the gate exploded behind her.

The Scalon burst through and leapt upon the nearest guard. The other guards fell backwards quickly, and Nerte ducked among them. Confused, they let her slip past…

Leaving the sounds of roaring and dismayed shouts echoing through the passages behind her she became invisible once more. Now she was faced with a large octagonal room. The door at the far end of the room had been blocked with huge piles of rubble, tables, chairs… She cast around the room for some kind of passage. She found it quickly. No-one had closed it behind them, and to the left of the room a door gaped open. She ducked through, and entered onto an immense columned room. Now she recognized where the passage led. This was Xirethard. Xirethard was a large ruin just outside of New Sheoth, and Syl had taken sanctuary there before when she felt her life threatened. However, Nerte had never known she had a passage between the ruin and the city…

Syl sat at Nerte's end of the Hall, her back to the passage, facing the large front entrance. Four guards stood around her in a decidedly protective manner. She was talking to a Mazken dressed in much the same armor as Nerte – her new assassin no doubt… The assassin breezed away, accompanied by two of the guards. Apparently Syl didn't even trust her own assassin at this point…

Nerte crouched low in the shadows and slipped away from the door, and settled down to wait until an opportune moment. The assassin vanished out the far exit, and the two guards returned. Nerte cursed herself for not having brought a bow, a crossbow, a blowpipe, anything with a bit of range to it… She hunched slightly forward, a shadow in the shadows. Her target was in sight – but how to reach it?

She turned her head sharply as a new sound came to her attention. A low rasping, hissing sound. It was accompanied by a life signature she recognized. That damned Scalon _again. _What, was it tracking her or something? And then an insane plan sprung to mind.

She leapt up out of the shadows, invisible and the Scalon materialized out of the darkness behind her, dropping _its _invisibility. The five figures before them spun around, appearing for a moment transfixed. Not seeing Nerte, they simply saw an enraged Scalon illogically bearing down upon them. Then their weapons were drawn. These guards did not attempt to defend themselves, rather under the direct eye of Syl stepped forth to protect the much smaller Wood Elf. Syl herself hefted a massive crystalline warhammer which Nerte recognized as Nerve Shatter. She was shouting at the Scalon to stop, obviously thinking she could command it to stop. She lost all chance of that when two of the guards released arrows into the beast, narrowly missing Nerte. It roared, louder still, and plunged towards them, not just chasing Nerte now…Nerte pushed past the guards, and then her invisibility spell broke.

She leapt sideways as a surprised Mazken lashed out at her with a Dark Longsword. Nerte stabbed a dagger towards Syl, who with surprising ease parried with the massive weapon she held.

A guard flew across the room, propelled by the massive beast rampaging around. Nerte managed to duck a massive clubbing blow from one of its clawed fists. Rolling forwards, she knifed one of the guards who were still trying to bring down the Scalon. The last guard was snatched up by the Scalon mere seconds later and shaken in its massive jaws, like a terrier with a mouse. It swung again at Nerte, this time catching her as she went to leap away. She was knocked to the ground, and did not get up. The Scalon it turned on Syl.

Nerveshatter swung, being truly used for the first time during the fight. The sharp crystals embedded themselves somewhere in the creature's neck, and an electric current ran from the wound, doing what the thousands of cuts and nicks the creature had received during the night had not. Blue sparks flickered across the Scalon, and it struggled for a moment, and then pulled away from the weapon. For a moment Nerte thought it was going to continue the attack, but even it was now outdone. It surged forwards, but then collapsed in half lunge, with a thunderous crash.

Syl turned to face Nerte. Purposefully she strode forwards, and stated quietly "Nerte."

She paused, looking thoughtful, "After all those years of serving me you simply turn away and try to kill me…" She sneered somewhat. "No honesty among assassins it would seem afterall."

Nerte raised her head and attempted to focus. One of her daggers was still clutched in a hand… "I ceased to serve you long ago. I never enjoyed serving you. You always had those removed who showed any initiative, anyone who was outside your box. If you had been a little less harsh on any difference and a little less liberal with the use of assassination there would have been no need for assassinations at all… I took this chance, not only to end your rule in Dementia, but to aid Sheogorath…"

Taken somewhat aback Syl's expression changed somewhat for a fraction of a second from her practiced mask to an expression of surprise and anger. "Sheogorath ordered this? He sent an exiled assassin to kill me?" Her surprise vanished and her arrogance returned. "He would never do that – what reason would he have?"

"I am no longer exile…" said Nerte pulling herself up from the ground into a half upright position. "…Sheogorath reinstated me to serve his Champion." Now she would have to do it, to kill Syl. A little closer and she couldn't miss…

"He wants to replace you with the Champion, Finn," said Nerte as levelly as she could from the ground. "I am here, serving my new master, and friend. I have no allegiance to you…" And with that last statement, bracing herself to kill Syl, she threw her dagger. The blade gleamed before she threw it, in her upraised hand. Syl's eyes widened in shock and she went to move, but her reactions were too slow… It was a killing throw, Nerte wanted it over.

Syl landed in clanging pile on the ground, amour clashing against flagstones.

Nerveshatter crashed to the ground alongside her, and the crystal head exploded into thousands of fragments. Dying with it's master. And thus ends the reign of Syl, thought Nerte before collapsing once again to the ground, into darkness…


	22. The Wrath of Syl

**The Wrath of Syl**

* * *

_Syl's revenge and retribution has always been quick. In face of death it quickens and the conspirators regret having ever messed with the master of conspiracy. Even after death, her retribution will no doubt pursue those who have killed her…_

* * *

Finn sat in a dark corner of Crucible, his back up against cold stone. The building behind him was apparently some type of museum. He'd once gone in there and the old crone in there had tried to talk him into getting a whole bunch of different things for her, two sided coins, mystic bones, a load of pure rubbish as far as he was concerned.

He glanced sideways at the Demora Na'kynaz and wondered irritably when he'd rack off. The Demora practically hadn't budged from his side all day, and he was truly getting sick of it. If this was permanent he guessed he'd have to live with it. Apparently this mob were as stubborn as Golden Saints, so he doubted he'd be able to shake him off…

He shrugged and asked the man what he did before he'd decided to tag along.

The Demora replied simply in his grating voice "I fought in the armies of Dagon. I served at Kvatch, at the Great Gate of Bruma, and in the siege of the Imperial City. No doubt we should be enemies, but we are not."

"I fought at Kvatch" replied Finn bitterly. "We lost. My home was destroyed and I was left with nothing but the battle. When the Hero of Cyrodill arrived and liberated the city I aided him. We re-took the city. Many died. How can you say we are not enemies?"

"We are not enemies as I no longer serve the Wargod, Dagon. I was forced from the Ravaged Lands into the Shivering Isles by a faction feud some time ago. We are soldiers who have been liberated from a war. We no longer must engage in combat. And if you truly saw me as an enemy I would no doubt have long ago been dead…"

Silently Finn decided to accept this; afterall he did not wish to kill the Demora. "So why were those people trying to kill you anyway?" he asked.

The Demora snorted in reply. "Why were mortals trying to kill a huge non local with horns on his head?" he asked. "Why do you think? It's because they're mortals. We Daedra _respect _life more than they do, even without a true understanding of your death the way they must have. Mortals are always out to get each other, even of the same race. At least the Daedra will only fight among species. Years ago, for example, Dagon went to war with Sheogorath. The Seducers under Dagon's command defected and went over to Sheogorath's side rather than fight their fellow Mazken. Did that cause a stir or what, but they did it… It made the Isles rather lopsided for some time though, I hear, as it doubled the Seducer population, and Sheogorath had to bring up Saint numbers to restore a balance…"

He trailed off, and seemed to be listening for a moment. Then Finn heard it too. It was the faintest crunch of metal, far above them, perhaps on the roof… He strained his eyes, but could see nothing in the darkness. Then Na'kynaz pushed him sideways and dived away himself.

A dark shadow vaulted down between them, the only noise it made being the crunching of small stones as it hit the ground, legs bending sharply to absorb the impact. The figure turned to face Finn, and was momentarily silhouetted against the relatively brighter street. The amour was that of a Mazken, but it wasn't Nerte. A, she wouldn't sneak up on them like that, B, she didn't use a sword like that…

A Dark Longsword swept through the air towards him, at neck level. He managed to duck the blow just in time, and then got his sword out as well. His iron blade came up to parry the next blow, and then a small dagger spun into existence in the Mazken's left hand, darting forward beneath his guard. He jumped backwards. Na'kynaz appeared behind the Mazken, but as if sensing the coming mace strike the assassin spun round and hit the mace away with a seemingly easy swing. Na'kynaz staggered backwards, not having expected the easy parry…

Sparks flew wildly and suddenly from Na'kynaz's hands, illuminating the dark passage like multiple tiny lightning flashes. The assassin turned a purplish colour and ignored the spell as if it had not hit her, and advanced on Na'kynaz. She raised a hand, and there was a greenish light, which hit the Demora full on, and encompassed him. Finn recognised it as a paralysis spell and staggered to his feet, to stop the assassin finishing him off. She turned to face his attack, which gathered speed and strength, until his full force was behind his first strike with his longsword. The blow did not achieve what he'd hoped, and she blocked it with apparent ease. She followed through with a blow of her own, which nearly landed across the side of his head, and a thrust from her dagger forced him to leap sideways. Desperately he caught her sword upon his own, and tried to flick it from her hand. However, she responded with a move he'd never seen before and followed through flexibly with his attempt to disarm her and then twitched her blade sharply sideways, disarming him rather than her, no matter how hard he tried to hold on to the blade.

His blade flew away from him and clattered to the ground, too far away to reach it. He tried anyway, not wanting to use his other option, which had begun to burn familiarly across his back. A dark blade cut him off before he could reach it.

By the Nine, he thought angrily and leaping backwards drew the blade from the scabbard across his back. It was hot to touch and was glowing ominously, sensing a kill… "Rack off would you?" he shouted to the assassin "This thing won't just kill you, it'll erase you, you here? You won't like it. No little Daedric re-birth afterwards, you get it?"

The assassin sneered at him, and advanced forwards, either not believing him, not caring or thinking she could overcome his blade. Finn prepared himself to be sucked once again into the mind of the blade, it's berserk and skilful fury, the power of hundreds of souls trapped within it… He didn't think he could though… At Cylarne it had been an accident. Could he willing do it? He didn't want to though… But he had no choice…

He never had to. There was a blinding flash of light, and a tall figure appeared behind the Mazken. Lighting sprung forth from one hand, a longsword was held in the other. The assassin spun around, and her purple resist magic spell flashed into existence again, but only for seconds. The lighting far exceeded that of the Demora in strength, in fact that of almost any other, other than the various Daedric Princes, of course. It bored into the Mazken's magical armour and her spell faltered under the attack. The purplish aura broke and she was flung backwards. She landed near Finn and several tiles fell from the already rickety roof, knocked down by the sheer force of her impact into the wall… They shattered in the ensuing silence, spraying small glazed brick shards across the street before Finn. He looked up and stained his eyes through the light to see who the rescuer was…

She appeared from the haze, her light dimming with the end of the fight. Golden cats like eyes gazed calmly out at him from beneath a tall, wing crested helmet. A Saint, with the magic of one he'd known…

He took a deep breath, not quite believing it.

"Adriana?" he asked cautiously.


	23. The Tide of Order

**The Tide of Order**

* * *

_Order has made its first foothold in the Isles now… As always, this foothold will fester like a sore and burn a mark into the Isles. From here the disease will spread, until it is strong enough to cease being a parasite and take over the entire land and the Isles will turn for some time into the Realm of Order. Then Jyggalag will vanish, for no apparent reason. Or none that Sheogorath's telling at any rate…_

* * *

The Sacellum Arden-Sul loomed around him, and a blue light shot up from the alter before him, spiralling up into the ceiling and well beyond… There was a flash, and the… heart… burnt up and the magic gained momentum. It sizzled around him, and bound him to a position he barely understood, nor wanted. What he wanted did not matter, it was what kept him alive and the Isles in fair sailing and thus Sheogorath in good humour that mattered.

Adriana had turned up with some rather bad news, and something would be done about it "As soon as you've gained your lordship…"

Finn had summoned Haskill and given him the bad news as soon as Adriana had delivered it, and then a rather dirty, tired and dishevelled looking Nerte had appeared with the necessary… organ. Sheogorath himself had teleported them all to the Sacellum, and now the ceremony had started.

A group of light pulses lit the room, emanating in dome shaped explosions. Tendrils of the light wove around him, seeping into his skin. This was a one way trip, and once started there was no backing out. He was Duke of Dementia for life now, or at least was soon to be… As soon as the process finished.

With a final crackle and burst of light which warmed his skin as it breezed across it the process finished, as the light died down and the whirling bright colors that had surrounded them briefly dissolved back into the more subdued colors of the Sacellum.

Off to his right, the flame of Arden Sul flickered coldly, and chilled him; after the warmth of the ceremony it was even colder than before. He turned to face the rest of the Sacellum. Sarcastically almost it seemed Sheogorath applauded, and then threw his cane up in the air and balanced it on his hand. Purple flames flickered around the top, and Sheogorath held out his other hand. With a small whoosh and a plop a golden band appeared in the palm of his hand, glowing faintly. The glow vanished and Sheogorath tossed it across the room to Finn who wordlessly caught it.

"It's your Ring of Lordship!" he proclaimed, sounding slightly jolly. His tone of voice shifted, as his mind focused on something else. "You'll also find you can now summon a Mazken," he said. "Not that ye need one of course, you've got Nerte here already…" A frown scrolled across his face, and his staff crackled slightly. The source of his irritation became apparent as he spun around, and glared at a new arrival, who was flanked by two Golden Saints. Thadon. A Mazken guard appeared up the stairs behind them and looked apologetically at Sheogorath. "Forgive me my lord, I could not keep them out…" she began but Sheogorath waved a hand impatiently and said "Don't worry yourself, I'm sure he has something VERY important to say. He'd better…" Thus dismissed the Mazken guard quickly hurried back out, clearly wanting his annoyance to fall on Thadon, rather than her.

Thadon was appeared even redder in the face then normal to Nerte, who watched from the shadows. In reality, however, she was rather more interested in finding out about Adriana, and how she'd found them. But first things first…

"I demand to know what's going on!" shouted Thadon angrily. "You can't just go around killing Dukes and Duchesses!" He looked ridiculous in his bright clothing, demanding something from the Madgod. This should be interesting, thought Nerte darkly. Sacrifice point coming up if he doesn't watch himself…

"Ah don't ye worry yourself, it's nothing personal… I just needed a new man in the position… A new face. A new idea. We're going to beat Order this time little Duke." Sheogorath beamed at him as if this should make sense to everyone.

"How…" began Thadon "Do you think killing us off will help us win? Hmn? It makes no sense. Either explain yourself for once or lose my support…" he stuttered for a moment and then managed "I will join Order!"

"Ahh, I don't need your support… And I certainly won't explain meself to the likes of ye. Go and beg to Order to accept you Thadon. If they accept you it will only mean your defeat. Ye will lose either way ye go now, cause ye no longer belong here…" He glared menacingly at the little Wood Elf and then addressed the two Auriel guards, who had stood to an uneasy attention throughout the whole process. "Take the 'Duke' here out and give him a horse. Don't hurt him… Much…" Sheogorath chuckled evilly as a protesting Thadon was dragged roughly out of the Sacellum Arden-Sul.

Finn stepped down off raised alter platform, and Sheogorath spun around, positively beaming. "See laddie, things are a changing. Never have things happened like this. Change is good. Everything must change. Even Daedric Princes. Especially Daedric Princes. Change is the essence of me Isles. Order will not change and if Madness changes enough surely it can twist from the stranglehold placed upon it… I don't even care that I've just been betrayed by a Duke of Mania. It's never happened before. It must be good. Even your little cheat it assassinating Syl and not doing it yourself is new," Sheogorath winked at him conspiratorially. "I really should punish ye for that ye know, cut off your head and rip out your intestines, that sort of thing… Ha, just think I could skip rope with them…" he stated happily. Angrily he continued, "However, I don't have time to get a new Champion, so we're all lucky I'm in a good mood and I like ye.

"Now little champion, I think it should be obvious what ye need to do next," growled Sheogorath "But just in case… Order's obviously gathering forces in me Fringe. I HATE it when people gather forces in me Fringe… I need ye to go and clean it out for me… If ye thinks ye need more than that to work with than you're a right wee daftie but if ye must ye can talk to Haskill about it. I'm sure he'll be happy to help. Or maybe not. Regardless, he'll help…" finished Sheogorath threateningly before clapping he's hands together and vanishing into a purple spiral of light.

Haskill went to vanish as well when Finn called to him he sighed and remained, the black mist dissolving from where it had appeared around him. "What is it you wish to know?"

"How are we expected to defeat order alone?"

"You won't be alone of course… You have your army, My Lord, Duke of Dementia… Now get on with it. Our Lord has the patience of a gnarl full of dry rot," stated Haskill calmly and then with an irritated look on his face as if Finn could be blamed for having forgotten he now _had _an army, vanished.

Three sets of Daedric eyes looked at him expectantly. He shrugged. "Let's get on with it then…" he said resignedly. He turned and strode slowly from the room.

* * *

_Nirna glared angrily at the gate in front of her. The massive three faced head loomed out of the thick fog of the Nibenay Basin before her. This gate had swallowed up so many now, and for her, Adriana was the last straw. She had been so important to the Fighters Guild. She looked behind her, at her wooden rowing boat which rocked around in the swell of the immense lake. The Hero of Cyrodill stepped out and moved up behind her. He looked somewhat awed by the gate before him, but perhaps that was just his usual expression. After all, this was the man who had saved Cyrodill from Mehrunes Dagon himself, and had closed so many Oblivion Gates before. A number of Fighters Guild people had chosen to accompany him through the gate, the Gate of Madness as it had become known now. His Imperial Dragon Armour gleaming darkly in the early morning sun he stepped up to the gate. He turned and faced the assorted group before him. Those of the Fighters guild stood with Nirna – there were several more she did not recognise and also there were a few men from the Blackwood Company. Their goal – to close this accursed Oblivion gate, which had appeared despite Martin Septim's sacrifice for the Empire to assure such a thing could never again appear. _

_"Well," roared the Hero. "We have come here to destroy this accursed portal of Oblivion. I believe I know what to expect, but I have never seen a gate like this before… But if it is a trap we do not know. We must rush into it, blindly it would seem. We may not return. We're all here now!" shouted the Hero. "Are we going or not?" He turned back to the gate and plunged through it disappearing into a blue flash of light. Nirna and her men followed… _


	24. First March

**First March**

* * *

_A Mazken army is on the march. A dark tide marches West towards the Gates of Madness, to force back Order and stem the tide. To the north an Auriel army masses to back the dark forces, united against a common grey foe, devoid of any colour. Order is a grey magic. It is neither dark like the art of Necromancy, nor is it a supposedly 'brighter' magic such as illusion. Both Shades of Madness lash out and rebel against it._

* * *

"However, the forces from Brellach will take some time to mobilize" said Adriana, who to the disgust of many a Mazken was planning things jointly with the leader of the Mazken forces, Chuana Novria, under the authority of the Duke himself. "And you will have to hold the Gates of Madness against the forces of Order themselves. If they have not already fallen that is…"

Chuana Novria interrupted her roughly " We cannot assume that Grakendo Udico, nor even Aurig Desha, the Golden Saint commander stationed in Passwall have been defeated yet…"

"A small team will be sent in to spy out the lay of the land" interjected Finn as smoothly as he could, trying to stop an argument breaking out again. "As long as we aren't rushed by Knights at the Gates of Madness." He didn't know what to do with Chuana Novria, her attitude towards the Golden Saint was appalling, and she obviously believed it only added to the insult of being placed beneath a _male_. What a _tragedy_. It didn't even seem to matter that Sheogorath had appointed him, nor that he was not trying to run the army, and was letting her have fairly free reign.

Chuana assented here, saying that of course she wouldn't have.

He walked out onto the small platform outside of the small enclosed space, joining Nerte and Na'kynaz, the first of which was leaning casually up against the fragile looking barrier and swinging out over the drop with each of the footfalls of the Khamula, her hair re-grown almost to shoulder length now and swinging with her. Daedric hair must grow by willpower or something, though Finn, cause he'd never seen hair grow so quickly. It would also explain why they never seemed to _need_ a haircut… Na'kynaz contrastingly strongly to Nerte was hunched up against the canopy upon the creature's back. Finn felt like joining him, as the creature seemed to stumble slightly suddenly lurching sideways, almost throwing him from his feet.

"Is this damned thing even safe?" he asked, feeling slightly sick, as the massive reptilian continued to lumber forwards. The beasts originated in the swamps of the Isles, and were relics from a distant past. Apparently such creatures had once also inhabited Tamriel – the Archeology Guild had apparently discovered several remarkably preserved specimens, which, however, had paled into insignificance next to their discovery of the Lost Spires.

The beast was some 20 metres tall to the shoulder and easily twice as long. From his platform high above, he could see the Mazken army, some 1000 Daedra strong. Several dozen more Khamulas dotted the ranks behind him, theirs leading the march onward. A walkway, somehow attached rather precariously to its armored spine led to another two boxes, both however, uncovered, one further up the beast, and another towards its tail. Gigantic reigns hung from the lead box to its blunt head, which hung somewhat lower than its shoulders, upon which the front box was perched.

"Perfectly, Finn," replied Nerte confidently "We Mazken have used them for many, many hundreds of years, with only a few misplaced footfalls and fatalities. And they truly devastate enemy ranks, as you would know, Adriana…"

Adriana appeared out of the tent like structure and glowered at the Mazken, and no doubt her reference to battles which had not gone in the favor of the Auriel. However, the glare did not seem to have the overlying hatred behind it, and she seemed to grudgingly accept that she was in a Mazken's war, and that she would have to respect that. In fact, it was similar to the way the ancient Dwermer had co-existed with the Ayleids, a tense alliance, which at times had, admittedly broken down into hostilities.

In Finn's opinion there was also something else new in the Saint's attitude – but perhaps it was just the age old the enemy of my enemy is my friend thing going on.

Finn could see that Adriana, as changed as she was, was about to launch into another tirade about Chuana. The Seducer had been overly optimistic, and Adriana wasn't liking it. To head her off he asked a question that had naturally been playing in his mind, and that of Nerte as well for the past two days, but the right time had never arrived to ask. Now it had, as, as far as he was concerned he was sick of waiting. "How are you here?"

"What?" asked the irritated Saint, sounding somewhat bemused.

What does she mean, 'what', he thought to himself, it's hardly something to act the fool about… She continued… "You killed me, Champion, and I was swallowed by the Waters of Oblivion, and then re-born, as I have been several times before now… After my re-birth I came straight to you…"

Nerte interrupted her, saying "Weeks have past here since we last saw you. As far as I know, re-birth is instantaneous. Duskfang is no ordinary blade; it destroys the souls of those it kills as well as their bodies. You were destroyed by it. You shouldn't be here… Yet you are."

Adriana looked around at the other three. "But it has only been two days… surely."

"Two and a bit weeks," replied Nerte firmly. "Your death was over two weeks ago. The question still stands unanswered then, if you cannot answer it, who can?"

She paused, before continuing, "However, I have though a lot about the matter since your return, and I believe it had something to do with our mental bonding… No, listen," she said as the Saint went to protest that nothing had happened once again. "A piece of your mind remained lodged in my own even after Duskfang had destroyed you… When I sacrificed myself on Rapture that piece of soul was finally liberated, and thrown into the Waters of Oblivion. It took some time to get it's old strength back to be re-born, but you were so strong you were re-born anyway…"

Adriana grunted noncommittally, apparently still not quite believing that it had been so long.

"Well it's only a theory" said Nerte. But I think I'm right, she thought privately to herself. In fact, there is no other solution. I know I'm right. "Unless of course the sword isn't what it's cut out to be," she murmured to herself.

"Sheogorath himself called it a Daedra killer", said Finn "He knew I'd used it on you, Adriana and even he didn't think you were coming back…"

Adriana stretched and walked over to the edge of the precarious looking construction, to near Nerte, and looked out forwards. "Well," she said, "whatever happened isn't important. What is important…" she said, pointing a gold-clad finger "…is that we hold those gates."

* * *

_The Hero of Cyrodill looked around himself, appearing somewhat surprised, as if this was not at all what he'd expected. In fact, it wasn't. He'd been expecting the fiery Plains of Oblivion which he was so familiar with. For almost a year he'd spent days and days within these gates, getting in and getting out alive again. _

_However, what faced him was like nothing he'd seen before. A grey plain rolled away before him and his 20 odd strong company, the ruins of massive, hulking tree like stumps dotting the plain, smoking. _

_Warily he turned one way, then the other, then continued on down the stone path before him. The rest followed him, some surprised at the way this was being tackled, no charging into battle, others searching for the Sigil Keep which they had been assured would be here, containing the Sigil Stone which could shatter the gate and return them home. Nothing seemed to fit. Nirna began to doubt that the Hero knew what to do any more then they did, when the Hero ran forwards. He'd heard shouting and rounding a corner saw what it was…_


	25. Passwall

**Passwall**

* * *

_Once again we must return to the Fringe. I have been forced to abandon my post there in recent days with the buildup of the forces of Order, and naturally my Lord and I knew of the March of Order long before Adriana arrived as a messenger from Brellach. However, his Madness likes to drag such things out… This is no longer the Fringe we know. It has been corrupted by the stain of Order, and nothing green grows here any more. Obelisks of Order sprout up thorough the landscape and the earth beneath ones feet turn to stone, dust and ash. The smoldering wrecks of the great mushroom trees dot the landscape, their massive heads blackened by fire and soot._

* * *

The Gate of Dementia had swung open without issue, the massive gates opening up onto a different world. However, to the surprise of Adriana and the obvious satisfaction of Chuana Novria no Knights of Order rushed them, and Chuana lost no time sending a group of scouts through the gate. They were all Mazken skilled in stealth, and so naturally Nerte joined their ranks.

Nerte gazed around cautiously at the surrounding landscape as they stepped out of the shadows of the gate. Order stretched away on all sides. Behind them Mazken clanked through the gate, and began to set up a hasty defensive position on the podium before the gates, the massive bust of Sheogorath looming over all. Hopefully Order was not yet strong enough to match the massive Mazken force head on, however, in the event that it was the army would fall back through the gates and either hold it in combat or if the enemy were extremely strong close and bar the gates, and hope for the best.

She and another Mazken, Kika were to investigate the plight of Passwall. If the town still held a defense against the enemy the Mazken forces would use it as a base, reinforcing it and plunging into the heart of the Fringe. She looked Kika over quickly – she was obviously trained as a scout, however, Nerte doubted that she had grasp of any more than a basic chameleon spell… Nevertheless, with a bit of caution and even a basic chameleon spell it was relatively easy to slip past a Knight of Order. Their senses seemed dull or at the very least poorly trained. Knights of Order did not seem to be truly Daedra – they could not be reborn like a Daedra and therefore their skills as warriors or as anything else for that matter were minimal. They seemed to be created by the Obelisks of Order which jutted up through the ground across the isles, and then born from a Crystal with the aid of a Priest of Order. Like Gnarls in amongst trees, however, in Ordered landscape they could be hard to spot when they weren't moving and the real trick was to spot them before they spotted you…

To Nerte's surprise Kika managed a remarkably good chameleon spell, which she, however, easily surpassed with her invisibility spell – the only downside of which was the intense concentration required to maintain it, at least when you were doing something other than just walking. A chameleon spell was what you really wanted if you were just standing still, as it could easily make you appear as if you were not there, blending you into the background. However, if you were moving the spell was always just behind where you were, creating a blur, no matter how good the spell. However, once cast it required only minimal concentration to maintain, more of a background task for the well trained mind.

The pair cast life detect spells, Nerte thinking _lenoche_ softly to herself so they would know where the other was and pressed forward.

Surprisingly soon they reached the bottom of the valley in which Passwall was situated. No Knights of Order had rushed forwards to fight them, in fact, they hadn't even _seen _one.

Passwall had changed. The town which had housed those who had come to the isles seeking escape, only no responsibility and _certainly _not to defeat the Gatekeeper, was blackened by soot and the stain of order marred the ground within it. However, the town appeared to have been fortified, with charred looking stakes sticking out at all angles. Nerte could make out Mazken and Auriel prowling behind the makeshift wall, bows at the ready, apparently expecting some sort of attack. Nerte slipped forwards again, followed closely by Kika. The pair headed towards a break in the fence line and dropped their camouflage spells. Almost instantly a mixture of Mazken and Auriel appeared out of the gate, brandishing weapons, which were mostly returned to sheaths upon seeing who it was, a pair of Mazken. However a number of the Daedra looked around suspiciously, apparently expecting an attack, belying the relatively calm appearance of the town before them.

"Take them through!" ordered one of the Mazken loudly. The pair were hustled through the gap in the fence line and into one of the houses nearby, a small grayish structure, above the door of which hung the three dark longsword banner of the Mazken. Nerte noticed that the house across from them had the Auriel banner hanging upon it – apparently even now the two races had different leadership.

The interior of the hut was much the same as it's exterior, the same drab, grey wood, the same style of furnishings and decorations as one would expect to find. Grakendo Udico rose from her seat behind the ancient looking wooden table. "Welcome to Passwall," she said sarcastically. "I must assume you are messengers, scouts or the entire force Sheogorath dispatched to aid us. I hope it is not the latter, although in his Madness he has done it before…" She trailed off and looked at the pair expectantly.

Nerte replied, "We are scouts from a massive force of Mazken which has taken the Gates of Madness. There is a total of around 1000 Mazken all up. The force is headed by the Duke of Dementia and Chuana Novria…"

"Duke of Dementia? When did we get a Duke?" asked Udico.

"Only several days ago the Finn Cro'hagan took the throne of Dementia by the will of Sheogorath," replied Nerte.

"So, we will all go to our doom under some foolish male," said Udico glumly.

Nerte managed to bite back an angry reply to this. She needed all the support from Udico and Desha that she could muster for the coming battle. "The plan is to force our way to Passwall and maintain it as a forward base. To reach the gates the only practical path is through Passwall. To overrun the gates of Madness Order will have to take Passwall. It must not fall until we are able to get news to the army that Passwall still stands and that their attack can commence…"

"What was that?" asked Kika as a great rumbling noise reached their ears and the ground shook slightly beneath their feet.

"That," said Grakendo Udico, "was the next wave of Order readying to crash upon us…"

* * *

_Nirna caught up with him followed closely by the others and looked up the path. A tight knot of about 7 or 8 warriors was up ahead; about half dressed in golden armor, the other half in dark armor. Hemming them in on all sides were a small force of dead looking warriors, crystal-like and the same colour of the crystals thrusting up out of the ground. Without order Nirna threw a fireball towards the battle, which splattered into one of the crystal warriors, knocking it to the ground. The warriors turned empty looking helmets towards the new arrivals, and a group of some twenty more appeared over a dusty stone-like hill to the right. Suddenly, in his element, the Hero became a leader to follow. Thrusting his sword up into the air, where it caught fire, with a blaze of white light, he shouted, "Arrows, now, and hold fast!" _

_Around half of the group carried bows, and hastily notched them while Nirna and another spellcaster fired spells into their mix. Both spells appeared to do little, knocked warriors aside. The ensuing hail of arrows brought down a front row of the crystalline armored soldiers, and they shattered on impact with the ground, pieces of crystal exploding as the life left them. _

_And then they were hand to hand, swords smashing into the brittle stone of the unalive warriors. They seemed to be totally unskilled, as if they had been created and then sent into combat. Perhaps they had. Regardless, despite the odds the company only lost three men, while the crystal soldiers all lay shattered across the ground. _

_The Hero walked up to the group of gold and black armored soldiers. The force appeared to be wholly made up of women. The tallest of the group, one of the Golden warriors stepped forwards, perhaps the leader. If the Hero expected thanks, he was sorely mistaken. _

_"What do you want, Mortal?" snarled the Golden Saint leader Aurig Desha, narrowing her cats eyes in suspicion._


	26. The Spire of Passwall

**The Spire of Passwall**

* * *

_The Spire of Passwall. This is an unusual looking landmark in the small wood plank town. It would appear to be a relic from the past – in fact it is. And regardless of the number of Madness decorations and patterns Sheogorath has had plastered onto it, it does not serve Madness. It is an untamed servant of the more sinister Lord of Order, Jyggalag. _

* * *

Grakendo Udico strode from the room. The other warriors in the room ran out after her, leaving Nerte and Kika to themselves. Nerte shrugged and pointed vaguely at the door. They both got up and followed them out. Nerte said, "Go back to the army and let them know that Passwall still stands. They can begin their attack on the Fringe any time, the sooner the better. Passwall needs the reinforcements…"

Without waiting for an answer, and knowing that Kika would already be on her way without looking back to check, Nerte jogged to the most crowded fence line. From here it was apparent what the source of the rumbling and tremors was – the ancient Spire of Passwall was alight with sparks and was smoking slightly – or perhaps it was steaming. Regardless, it seemed to be carrying out some sort of process… Suddenly Udico shouted "Here they come!", and Daedra all along the frontline notched arrows into their bows… Nerte wondered for a moment what she was shouting about, when seconds later the column cloud glowed brightly and then there was a blinding flash of white light. Momentarily blinded by the glare Nerte heard the release of the dozens of arrows. Her eyes had recovered sufficiently by the time the arrows hit home to see the force of Knights that had materialized around the base of the Spire. They had to outnumber the Daedra behind the barricades at least three to one… Arrows were released into the enemy at will rather than to any particular order as it was practically impossible to miss, Nerte supposed… Nerte pulled one of her long daggers with her left hand from its sheath, a throwing knife held loosely in the other. She relaxed and breathed deeply and slowly – for her the charge was the calm before storm…

Seconds later the Tide of Order hit the front row of stakes. If anyone had expected them to slow for the barricade they were sorely mistaken. The front row hit and died in a second. The second wave lapped past the barricade and crashed down upon the far side, with only a few more knights dying on remaining stakes. Fearlessly and relentlessly the rest of the force pressed on, over the hastily crumbling crystalline bodies of their comrades. Nerte threw her throwing blade and as it crashed into a Knight of Order drew her second longer dagger. She raised them before her as the barricade gave way with a crunch of wood, and a third wave of warriors tore into the massed Mazken and Auriel. A Knight of Order rushed onto her blades, dying even as it went to swing its sword for the first time during the battle. She turned around and ducked a head height swung blade. The sword followed through with its swing and smashed into another Knight. She kicked from her crouch, the sole of her metal boot crunching into the first Knight, which staggered backwards and then shattered as it was destroyed with a blade through it's crystalline helm. The Knights seemed incredibly incompetent. The swell of tide of Order was beginning to falter already under the expert blades of immortal Daedra. Nerte stabbed at the back of Knight. Barely any of the Mazken, nor any Auriel had died in the attack, at least not as far as she could tell. It had been an easy victory as far as she could see. Perhaps too easy?

She noticed that none of the Auriel nor Mazken had even sheathed their blades. Some struggled with erecting parts of the barricade which had proven so effective against the relentless Knights. But most of them were watching the spire, waiting. She turned to look at it. Then she realized why they were just watching, waiting. There was another pulse of white light. And again there stood as many Knights as before, perhaps more… And they charged.

This time Order easily crashed through the barricades, and only a few Knights were killed in the initial charge. Nerte blocked the first blow directed at her effortlessly, crossing her blades and deflecting the Ordered Longsword off to her left and while holding off the blade with her left stabbed with her right. She spun through the spot where the crumbling Knight had stood, Shards of Order crunching beneath her feet.

The Spire flashed again. Without even looking up she new what would be standing around it, another army of Order. Something else had to be done. She glanced up at the Spire in a momentary lull around her. Somewhere it was being powered by a crystal, and she would find it… She ran from the frontline, searching her mind for memories of the Fringe. The Gardens of Flesh and Bone were too far north to house the crystal she believed must be beneath the Spire… The spire was obviously enhancing its power, beyond that of any crystal she had before encountered.

She raised a hand and purple and black light flowed from between her fingers. A shape appeared in a similar nearby swirl of mist, which hovered a little above the ground and managed to keep pace with her even as she ran. She ran east towards a ruin she had once seen there, but had not explored.

The shape resolved itself and took the shape of Haskill. "Must our Lord give _everyone _that spell?" he asked irately.

"He didn't" answered Nerte. "Finn taught me how to summon you. Seemed to think it was funny actually" she said in between strides.

"Did he really?" asked Haskill in a tone that gave no doubts that he did not find it the slightest bit amusing. "Well come on then, ask me what you want and then I can go. I hate having to use the proximity levitation charm…" he finished glaring down at the grayish scenery flashing past beneath his feet.

"Do you know if the Spire of Passwall is powered by a crystal in the large ruin east of Passwall?"

"You mean in Xeddefen? I would have to assume so, although no one has ever seen it. The chamber seals up with Order's magic all through each Age of Madness and no-one's ever made it in there _during _a Greymarch. Is that where your going now is it?" he asked her. She nodded, and when she turned her head momentarily to see if he was still there he was. Looking thoughtful, he reached into a pocket which had seemed to appear out of no-where on his black and red outfit. He reached out towards her somewhat lazily and when she glanced down he held several long, grey and jagged crystals in his hand. "Shards of Order. Take them. They will allow you to control small parts of Ordered magic for very short periods of time, so opening sealed passageways and stopping Knights of Order in their tracks is well within their power. You should even be able to deactivate the Crystal with one. Remember, that they only work once each though… However, I no have no doubt you'll find use for them…" Even as she took the crystals, still speeding towards Xeddefen he began to fade away. When she next looked back he was gone, but she caught a muttered phrase which vanished just after him himself. "Always a pleasure… ha… damned summons spell… soon the whole of the Isles will know it…"

* * *

_If the Hero was surprised by this open hostility he didn't show it. Rather, he answered her, "We have come to close the Portal of Oblivion, the gate to Tamriel."_

_She snorted at this. "If you can close it, be our guest. We have asked Sheogorath to close the accursed thing for some time now. It weakens the wall between not just Tamriel and the Isles, but also the realities of Order."_

_"Order?" he asked._

_In answer to this the Daedra looked at him sharply, and when seeing he was not making fun of her, her cat's eyes widened in surprise. "You don't know Order? Well of course you don't if you have come from Tamriel." She waved a hand round at the surrounding bleak and grey scenery. "This is Order" she said._

_Nirna's knowledge of the Princes was perhaps better than that of the Hero's (As a Dark Elf one generally knew more of the Daedra than your average person) and her mind clicked here. Sheogorath. "These are the Shivering Isles?" she asked in disbelief. _


	27. Drawing Poison From a Wound

**Drawing Poison from a Wound**

* * *

_ Xeddefen is a hive of Order, the wound from which infection spreads in the Fringe. If the wound is not cleansed it will eventually overwhelm the defenders and the Fringe will fall. With the loss of the Fringe, the Fringe will become the wound that will infect the Isles. _

* * *

The Dark Army of Madness marched through the Gate of Dementia, an orderly (although perhaps ordered is not the best word – they marched in rows of lines)

Finn walked with an escort of Mazken Elite guard, Adriana walking beside him eyeing them in suspicion. Apparently she didn't really believe that they had _all _embraced a new Duke, although it seemed that the most radically loyal to Syl had died alongside her in Xirethard. Nevertheless, Finn wasn't sure who was more protective, Adriana and Na'kynaz, who seemed to be getting on quite well (Finn wasn't really surprised, Nerte had said they were a similar type of Daedra), or the Mazken bodyguard.

The Fringe shocked him in its desolateness. Last time he'd seen it, it was a vibrant, lush land of colour and both the darkness of Dementia and the brightness of blended together here, both the Shades of Madness united together here.

He stepped away from the main column, momentarily, his black Duke's cloak blowing around him. Dust puffed up around his feet as the tiny crystals the sand and dirt had been transformed into were crushed. The world of Order, he realized, as the wind blew around him, was like all others. He bent to pick up a handful of the small crystals beneath his feet. Like all others it was fragile, and he wondered what force of magic must exist to be holding it intact. It was not natural, not in the sense of the Isles, or Tamriel, or even the barren, burnt plains of Mehrunes Dagon. Without the magic to hold it, it would surely crumble away…

He turned back to his guard, who had moved out to join him, while the rest of the army continued its forward march, following Chuana Novria. The Mazken formation intended to strike a blow against Order as soon as possible, and about one quarter of the army made its way to garrison in Passwall, where Grakendo Udico still held against Order. He sighed, the whole thing seeming pointless to him. He'd been filled in on the background of the Madness/Order wars by Haskill and had found out that the armies of Madness had been routed in the Fringe every Cycle.

Even as he turned to join back with the army a black wisp of magic appeared in the air before him, and was followed by a figure that quickly resolved and gained colour. Somewhat surprised, Finn stepped backwards momentarily and then halted, facing Haskill. What surprised him was that the man had never appeared without being summoned and even then, he only remained under pain of death, saying he had "more important things to do."

However, the bald 'jester' had arrived. Things must be really bad. "What's the problem?" asked Finn.

"Problem? Who said anything about a problem?" asked Haskill. "I come simply to tell you that Nerte is on her way in an attempt to disable the crystal that powers the Spire…"

"Why didn't you tell me there was a crystal that powered the Spire? I would have ordered an attack on it…"

"_That _isthe _reason _I did not tell you. A front on attack on Xeddefen would never have succeeded. However, someone as skilled as Nerte might be able to make it through…

"You sent her into Order's stronghold on her own?" asked Finn in disbelief. "I don't care how skilled she is, she'll never make it…"

"I agree, my Lord, not with so many Knights lurking beneath the surface. They have transporting through the Spire, small forces as they are produced and they have not been weakening their garrison in Xeddefen. However, if an assault were made on the exterior of Xeddefen they would be forced to move the majority of their forces out of the ruin into battle, giving Nerte a chance… It is like drawing poison from a wound…"

Adriana nodded at this, and said "If anyone can destroy the crystal without engaging in combat it would be Nerte… But even she cannot walk through Knights of Order, and many Priests of Order can see through invisibility spells, even such masterful ones as hers… All they need is the most basic detect life spell. The little man is right for once. An attack launched against Xeddefen could just tip the scales in her favour – and in our favour."

Finn sighed once again, only this time in his mind. He looked out at the army, the front of which was already some way away. "I will order the attack. However, I must convince Chuana. While the guard," he said to Adriana quietly "may follow me, the army will probably not, even with Sheogorath's blessing upon me. I need the support of Chuana if I am going to get them to come alongside."

This wouldn't be easy to gain – Chuana had expressed quite clearly how she felt about having to obey – or at least to appear to obey Finn as the leader of the army.

Miles away, Nerte eased slowly over the innermost wall of Xeddefen. By coming from the north, through the cliff-like area that the ruin backed up onto she'd been able to easily avoid the Ordered guards, and many of the Priests of Order as well. These were perhaps her greatest threat, being capable of wielding magic which could shatter her illusion spells.

She became invisible, and dropped over the edge, and then lurked in the shadows, waiting for an opportunity to slip through Xeddefen's gates when they opened to admit Knights of Order. She figured that even the daftest Knight would be able to work out that something was up if the door opened by itself. She didn't have to wait long. Almost as soon as she dropped down from the wall the door slowly creaked open and a group of around a dozen Knights exited and as they marched out she slipped in though.

Xeddefen's interior was dry and cool, and felt and smelt much the same as the Ordered outside world. Small to medium sized crystals hung, shimmering in her nightsight. However, despite nothing gave off a life signature nearby she didn't relax her guard. They were like the undead, only in reality were the unalive. Neither gave off life signatures as neither was truly living.

The Grummite tribe which had lived within Xeddefen lay dead around the room. Their worship of the strange crystals within had not made them any less the product of Madness and Jyggalag's troops had slaughtered them as such.

Up ahead she heard the clatter of crystal feet, and when she rounded the corner she was faced with a massive hall. Her heart sank with what she saw. She would never get past this… Within, hundreds of Knights of Order stood in ranks and columns, waiting to be given their orders and to march to war. Even as she watched, the back of the formation was reinforced by another dozen or so Knights who came rushing up twin stairways at the rear of the hall. Priests of Order stood scattered among the formation, and massive Knights formed a central core. They did not reflect light as the others, they seemed older, less bright, almost absorbing the light. Massive creatures of crystal, troll like and 6 metres tall were interspersed among the warriors. Nerte realized that even while the Spire harassed them this force (and possibly others like it in other halls – Xeddefen was massive) had been massing, preparing for a final annihilating assault.

They would surely not attack until it was too late – she could do nothing until they did. They would rely on the Spire to destroy any force thrown at the Fringe and then seize it and march on New Sheoth.


	28. Sheldon of Passwall

**Sheldon of Passwall**

* * *

_Sheldon is the self-proclaimed "Mayor" of Passwall. He is a man who has somewhat of a higher opinion of himself than a Saint has of Sheogorath. He was the first to begin a permanent settlement in the Fringe and thus believes he has earned himself this title. Very few others agree with him. This is obvious by the fact that there have been _no, _I repeat _no _assassination attempts. _

* * *

As Nerte watched she was surprised to see the army begin to move. Slowly at first, one or two Knights of Order moving, then more and more until finally the entire force was marching. They formed up into a column about the width of the passageway from where she watched, some ten men wide. The first rank of Order hit the staircase and she realised what this meant for her. She had to move. Quickly.

She padded back up the passageway she'd come down until she came to the next hall like room, and, not wanting to move any further from her goal she quickly searched the room up and down, looking for a hiding spot. Then she spotted something, the palest glimmering of life, however, quite a large creature. Cautiously she walked to the wall panel hiding it and searched for some sort of trigger for a secret doorway. She found it, a loose brick which could be pushed down with heavy weight on it. The doorway swung open lightly, revealing only darkness and a now strong life signature. She drew her daggers, and then the owner of the life signature stepped from around the corner. She put her daggers back.

"What are you doing here, Sheldon?" she asked, almost amused at the look of terror on the man's face.

"Get inside, you fool!" he said and pulled her through roughly, apparently surprising even himself. The door swung shut behind them as he apologised, apparently having forgotten himself. Afterall, that was no way for the Lord of Passwall to behave. Nerte saved the glaring for later, as through the narrow stone doorway she could hear the march of Ordered feet. Apparently if she'd waited a second more they would have seen her. Ah well.

"Is this place magically shielded?" whispered Nerte to him.

"Yeah, it is. I'm surprised you found me actually. You must have one hell of a detect life spell…"

The Ordered forces marched to war. A tiny Mazken force had rallied to the fight. Chuana had refused him any fighters, declaring that an attack on Xeddefen was madness. She was right of course, and she wasn't placing the lives of her entire army at risk on such a campaign. Many commanders in the Fringe had attempted such a thing in the past and all had failed, their armies scattered back to the Waters of Oblivion and slowly being re-born at the Wellsprings of the Mazken, or the Auriel at Pinnacle rock or Brellach respectively. While they could not truly be killed by Order the re-birth of an entire army took weeks, and in this time Order had generally either taken New Sheoth or at the very least sealed over the Wellspring of one of the forces, leaving the Isles at half strength.

Regardless, Finn had assembled what warriors he could. On top of Adriana, Na'kynaz and his 30 odd strong Mazken Elite guard around fifty more Mazken had 'deserted' to join his attack. These were mostly Mazken from New Sheoth, who had seen that Sheogorath himself had chose Finn Cro'hagan as his Champion. But he'd hoped for more…

"Ah well," said Na'kynaz beside him. "These _are _Mazken. They are worth at least five Knights each."

"How would you know?" asked Finn, curious.

"Remember I said that once Mazken served Dagon as well? Demora and Mazken once defended the Fire Plains against Order. While their magic was not so fierce as ours, but their swordplay was swift and deadly and their spells tended to be more subtle."

"Order fought against other realms?" asked Adriana. "I have never heard of that," she added, implying that only she was right.

"Oh, it was many, many years ago. Before Sheogorath had even appeared. I was not alive then, I have only heard it from the oldest of the Demora. I believe Order became so strong that Sheogorath was devised by the other Princes to counter Jyggalag's power. For some reason Jyggalag has never been able to defeat Sheogorath. He takes the Isles, and then, bizarrely, loses his grip on them. Only the Princes and the Nine know."

"You know of the Nine?" asked Finn, surprised. "That they exist?" He hadn't believed that anyone outside of Tamriel knew of them.

"Of course they exist," said Na'kynaz dismissively. "There is no doubt of that. They seem to be immensely powerful, however they have only very limited interest and involvement in the events of the Realms. It is commonly believed among the Demora that they are extremely powerful Princes who have raised themselves above the Plains."

"Regardless, the strength of the Mazken was not what I was referring to," said Na'kynaz. "I was referring to how pathetic Knights of Order are in combat."

As their force drew near to Xeddefen they were not rushed by Order as Finn had expected. Rather, they were met with deathly silence and when they arrived at the ruin it appeared abandoned. He had expected to see Knights rushing around and out to meet them in battle instantly.

The Mazken banner hung limply in the air, it's black swords barely visible, as the perhaps 80 strong force clattered to a halt around it. All that met them was dust and the muffled echoes of their own march.

And then the sound began. A Mazken scout heard it first, the sound of marching from behind the great gate she had been sent to scout out. Then, gradually, even from a distance the sound of Ordered feet marching became distinguishable above the sound of their own feet upon Ordered ground.

The gates creaked open. The clatter and clanking of hundreds of Knights marching in perfect unison boomed out across the landscape. Finn felt intimidated by the sound without even being able to see the enemy force yet. The Daedra around him did not seem anxious or threatened – then again, he though negatively, they can't die. Why should they be worried yet?

Then the force rounded a corner of the ruins which had shielded it up until now. Ten Knights broad and hundreds deep, the column was perfectly… Ordered.

Finn's force, as small as it was, spanned the entire breadth of the pass out of Xeddefen. This made it difficult for the Knights to surround them and bring superior numbers to bear, while at the same time meaning they had their forces spread in a narrow chain. If Order broke through all was lost for them. They would be surrounded and isolated into small groups which the Knights would be able to pick apart with ease…

"This is madness" said Na'kynaz, looking at the vast grey horde which grew ever large as they watched. Massive crystalline beasts dotted its ranks and Priests of Order could be seen drawing on their powers to summon yet more Knights from the chasms of Xeddefen.

Adriana looked at the army then back at him. "At it's finest," she said, and grinned.

The sound of Ordered feet faded into the distance and Nerte peered out from a crack in between the wall and the hidden doorway. No-one had seen them – unless someone lay in wait for her to step out of her bolt-hole. She stepped forwards, not bothering with invisibility as if anyone had noticed them it would have only been with the use of a detect-life spell. Satisfied by her own detect life spell that no Priests of Order lurked around she turned back to the dark slit in the wall. Her nighteye spell showed her Sheldon looking out at her, straining his eyes in the dark of the ruin. She waved a hand at him and he jumped backwards as purple light hit him on the chest.

"Wha…" he began and then blinked several times. "I can see – in the dark…"

"It's just a nighteye spell," said Nerte. "It'll wear off in good time. Now, are you coming or do I leave you hear and … maybe … pick you up later?" Sheldon looked around anxiously.

"I was hoping just to wait around till things died down a bit…"

Nerte almost failed to suppress a laugh at this. "Wait till things die down a bit? This is a Greymarch, Sheldon and unless you're happy to wait a decade or so thing's aren't going to 'die down'. Are you coming or not?"

She walked quietly onwards and heard his muttering following her. Something about no respect for the mayor of Passwall. She gritted her teeth. "Sheldon," she said quietly, and as menacingly as she could manage under the circumstances. "If you're going to follow me walk quietly and not like a stampeding Gnarl. Stop muttering. We don't want anyone hearing us. So, basically, shut up."

Despite the situation she had to smile. She'd met the man a few times before, and she'd always wanted to say that to him…


	29. The Battle of Xeddefen

**

* * *

The Battle of Xeddefen

* * *

**

_Only Order knows the true extent of the corridors and chambers of Xeddefen which riddle southern side of the Fringe. They are so extensive that some say the tunnels extend even to the Gardens of Flesh and Bone where Relmyna created her Gatekeeper. However, the Gardens of Flesh and Bone have never been thoroughly searched and mapped and so this cannot be proven, as the Xeddefen end seals up during the reign of Madness_.

* * *

"How did they all fit in there?" grated Na'kynaz. "The ruins must be immense."

"They are," said Finn. He'd explored them, way back when he'd first arrived in the Isles. They had provided him with his first introduction to Grummites. He and the local tribe hadn't exactly got on and he'd more or less avoided ruins since then, although during his service to the Madgod he'd been compelled to venture into a number more – Xedillian, Dunroot Burrow, Cylarne…

"Archers!" shouted Adriana next to them. A few Mazken glared at being ordered by a Saint, however those who had followed them were among the most open minded of the Mazken and the general response was a clank of amour and the army formed up into ranks. Anyway, they all knew what they were supposed to do so they weren't really being ordered around – it just looked like it. Someone had to do the shouting. It made the army look better, and that was halfway towards being the victor. (This is a theory that has been tested countless times. The mysterious Daedric Prince Malagbaal sums it up by stating that in battle campaigns 'the best looking side always has luck on their side' Nevertheless, this theory does not hold fast during a skirmish between Mystic Elves and Orcs. The Orcs seem to inevitably win) Bowmen slipped through to the front rank and readied themselves for the coming battle. The Ordered Army no longer appeared to grow – reinforcements stood back in the ruins no doubt, not fitting on the battlefield outside of bow range.

Suddenly, with flick of her hand Adriana sent a deadly lightning bolt streaming from her fingertips, which lanced into the enemy ranks. As if on cue almost every Mazken released a respectable bolt into the enemy army. The front rank of Order was cut to shreds, and the force fell into disarray. For precious seconds the army floundered around, as if trying to decide where to rush to, and in this time the army had released another burst of magic, some eighty odd lightning spells and one fire spell which Na'kynaz sent off.

And then Order charged. At the cry of "Arrows" a cloud of dark tipped arrows sped towards the enemy, Daedric magic biting into them. Volley after volley was released and countless more lightning spells lanced out form the Mazken ranks. Finally, Order was upon them though, and Mazken all around Finn threw down their bows and drew Dark Longswords, not taking the time to strap their bows to their backs.

Adriana estimated to herself that at least one hundred Knights had died in their headlong charge. Unfortunately there were plenty more coming, hundreds streaming out from the cover of the ruins even as the front rank crashed among them.

Finn looked to Na'kynaz who had drawn his mace and had pulled his hood back, letting the light shine over his Demora face. Finn himself had reached a decision long ago. While Dawnfang was a dreadblade, a doomblade these creatures had no souls… Reaching over his shoulder he pulled the long-handled sword from its sheath with a cold whoosh and hefted the sword in both hands. This time, welcome, the magic of the blade did not overcome him so completely as it had at Cylarne, rather worked with him than through him. At Cylarne the sword had sensed the need for him to act and his failing to do it on his own and had forced his hand – seemingly for his own good. However, Finn didn't believe for one second as the magic of the blade flowed through him, strengthened him and endowed him with the skill of all the souls it had claimed that it was not acting for itself and that it was not just working for itself. However, regardless of how unsatisfying Knights of Order might be they apparently appealed to the sword more than nothing would.

In his hand Dawnfang burnt red. As the first Knights reached him he stepped forwards, confident now in his skill and swung the sword in a fast high slash which cleanly killed the first Knight and his swing carried on through into the next. Beside him Na'kynaz's mace swung and cracked the stone face of another Knight, who fell backwards, already crumbling into dust. Finn sidestepped a Knight's unpracticed swing and stabbed him, and he collapsed from the hole in his chest. The ring of sword upon sword could be heard all up and down the ranks, the Mazken fighting a defensive battle, only going on the offensive when a clear kill could be sited.

Nearby, Adriana looked up into the featureless face of a Crystal Troll. The beast was really nothing like a troll, at least not those of Tamriel, it was more like a Frost Atronach only much blockier (if that was possible) and far less intelligent. A bolt of her most devastating lightning when she had first spotted it throwing Mazken around had not damaged it as far as she could tell, and now she cast the same spell again against it. It seemed momentarily staggered; however it turned quickly back to glower down at her, the lightning reflecting off its bulk. Suddenly, with a speed that its immense size belied it swung a crystal warhammer, twice Adriana's own height. It swept across at head height and Adriana dropped down, not bothering even to try parrying such a blow. She darted forwards, crunching over the disintegrating remains of Knights, many of which she had killed and raised her sword above her head, and stabbed at the beast two handed. By now it had recovered from its swing and as her sword struck swung the butt of its warhammer sideways. Her sword connected and dug into it, while she lost her grip on it and was lifted off her feet and thrown backwards. A dozen Mazken rushed forwards, trying to fill the gap the beast had left and two were caught up by the warhammer. However, Adriana was its intended target… She could see her sword still lodged just below its chest. She once again threw lightning at it. This time, however the lightning did not just bounce off it. Even as a shower of Dark Arrows peppered it, bouncing harmlessly of its armored shell. Adriana saw that the sword had acted as the conduit for the spell she had hoped it would. Lightning raging within it, the Crystal Troll staggered backwards and collapsed in a heap.

Finn saw the Troll go down and sighed in relief. But he knew that they could not win here. He could see many more Trolls lumbering across the battlefield. That first one had killed ten of his Mazken on its own, when hundreds of Knights had been lucky to kill one or two. While slow, the Trolls were the equal to hundreds of Knights, and harder to wound. He'd seen a number of weapons just bounce off its skin. Why Adriana's had worked he couldn't think… Perhaps it was a magical blade of some type… Regardless, the Trolls countered their advantage of being able to hold the gap one on one. They would have to pull back soon.

* * *

Nerte crouched in the shadows of the hall. The hall ran around a large square room. Light pulsed from around the corner, white and purple light as the Obelisk created Knights of Order. It was the most powerful she had ever seen – perhaps the obelisk did not enhance the Spire so much as the Spire enhanced the crystal…

She'd left Sheldon behind in a dark shadow – she'd said she wanted him to watch her back and that she would be back, but in reality he was just too noisy. Holding a Shard of Order in her hand she peeked round the corner. Sure enough the room was packed full of Knights of Order along with half a dozen or so Priests of Order. They would provide the greatest trouble… She glanced down at the Shard of Order in her hand and felt the others slipped into pouches in her Assassin's Mazken amour and hoped they really could do what Haskill said they could. She held the first of her Shards, wondering how it would work. One way to find out…

Gritting her teeth she stepped out into the doorway. There was silence in the room as dozens of faceless faces turned to face her. The silence ended when the clatter of Ordered feet erupted, echoes splattering all around her, coming from all sides. Her first instinct, to vanish, invisible nearly triumphed, but she held her ground. She held the Shard before her, realizing in some vague corner of her mind how foolish she looked. She was not Adriana; she could not fight them, not all of them openly like this… and invisibility would not help her here, not with the Priests standing guard against such an attempt.

In desperation almost she fed the Shard a command. STOP! The Knights ceased rushing up the stairs, frozen in almost comical positions, paralyzed instantly by her mental command. She felt the Shard of Order crumble in her hand even as she made her next move. She acted on her first impulse, realizing that here there was no time for thought. She drew one of her daggers while leaping past the frozen Knights. It spun home, lodging itself in the throat of a Priest even as he went to cast a spell. She felt a flame spell burn past the back of her neck, singing her hair. She reached the Obelisk, and ducked an Ordered sword wielded by a Priest of Order, which smashed into the Obelisk, causing a fountain of purple sparks to fly forth. She swung her leg around, knocking the Priest's legs out from under him and sending him sprawling to the ground.

Before the other three Priests in the room could close in on her she pulled a Shard of Order from a pouch and, flipping it round in her hand, followed through in one continuous swing and jammed the Shard into the Obelisk's side. SHATTER! She screamed at it in her head.

It obeyed.


	30. The Crystal Fist

**The Crystal Fist

* * *

  
**

_Knights of Order are brittle creations of Order. Lifeless husks, without an original thought within them they are fearless and will march and fight until death. However, while they are younger they are soft, brittle creations and easy to destroy, as well as being inexperienced as they are rushed straight into battle with no former training. Over great periods, however with the natural ravages of time they become as the world around them, hard and unbreakable as granite and the earth. Such Knights are uncommon as few survive through the end of a Greymarch. The oldest and most experienced Knights, although rare are practically unstoppable by normal means and form Jyggalag's elite core of troops. A few among them have even mastered some of the arts of Jyggalag himself. They are the Crystal Fist.

* * *

  
_

"Retreat!" shouted Finn. "Retreat!" The front rank of his Mazken had simply collapsed under the onslaught of the Trolls. Where holes were hacked in formations the untrained Knights were also able to gain a purchase among Mazken in a less sophisticated brawling fighting style where dozens of Knights could surround a single Mazken. They had done all they could here. Dawnfang burnt through another Knight as he backed off. They would retreat as quickly as possible to Passwall, the Mazken defenses there would be able to hold even this force… He hoped.

His hopes died as he turned, and Dawnfang's flame seemed to dim with his surprise. And then his hopes surged back and he could almost have laughed. _One _rank of Knights? If Order had meant to trap them then it was a poorly constructed trap.

All around him, the remains of his fleet-footed Mazken force disengaged itself from the lumbering Knights and hulking trolls and charged the line of Knights.

And then the Knights did something completely unexpected. Rather than drawing blades they raised their hands, fingers extended towards the oncoming foe. Each Knight writhed in blue tongues of lightning and sparks flew from them. Then they discharged their energy. With a force akin to that of Adriana's lightning ripped through the front rank of Mazken, killing easily half of those who remained with him. He was only just missed by one of the deadly bolts. Mazken stumbled and scattered all around him, and Order caught up to their rear and re-engaged them there, swinging round the sides and in between survivors surrounding them and cutting them off from each other. The tall, dark rank of Knights before them began to spark blue again – building up a charge – thought Finn grimly. He'd never seen Knights wield magic before, this was a whole new league for him. The remaining Mazken managed to charge at the Knights again them, and Finn was happier to see the gleam of gold and red amidst their black.

Dawnfang feeding him the strength he needed he met one Knight along the rank as his Mazken clashed into them. Dawnfang was deflected by a seemingly casual swipe of the intended victim's forearm, catching the blade side-on. Momentarily staggered, Finn tried to raise Dawnfang, but was not quick enough. The Knight's fist closed around the hilt of the sword, and wrenched it from his grasp, the spikes of its knuckles digging into Finn's hand through his amour. It threw the blade aside, which smoldered momentarily before being extinguished, and then threw a blow at Finn, expecting it now, he managed to dodge sideways. The Knights were once again almost glowing blue – when they discharged their magic again they were all lost. He leapt towards the fallen sword, but even as he did so he realized they had lost. Not even one of the Knights had fallen. A burst of blue light erupted all around him as the Knights once again let loose their magic. Or so he thought. He grabbed up Dawnfang and turned to see the smoking wreck of a one of the Dark Knights. Adriana stood over it, her Golden Longsword gleaming blue.

Finn's blade burnt brightly again. The last remnants of the Mazken force seemed to be behind Adriana, and they streamed through the hole she'd made in the Knight's defenses. He stumbled after them, wondering why they made no move to block them again. Something else had occupied their attention. Thousands of featureless masks were staring out from the army, but not at them… He looked forward.

A sea of black and gold stretched out before him. The Mazken and Auriel armies. Brellach and Pinnacle Rock combined. A cloud of arrows, gold and black flew across the distance, missing the survivors, the majority bouncing of the chests of the Dark Knights, but some passing through their rank and killing Knights of Order.

Upon reaching the Two Armies Finn turned around. The Dark rank had closed up and the rest of the army was behind them. Slowly and purposefully they advanced up the battlefield, beginning to glow blue again.

"What are they?" he asked Adriana.

"I truly don't kno…" she began but was interrupted by Chuana who appeared at the front ranks of the army to meet the survivors. Adriana glared at her for interrupting, but held her tongue as Chuana explained.

"They are the ancient Knights, survivors from the distant pasts. Now they are Jyggalag's elite. They are the Crystal Fist".

Finn warned her of the magic of the Knights and was met with an : "I know, my Mazken are holding up a thaumic field" and she went on to explain that that was a magical barrier being projected by many trained warriors to reflect spell effects on the army. They were completely safe until Order reached them. In theory alone though, of course.

As if in response to this statement and to prove it's worth the Knights once again discharged their magic and Finn was relieved to see it scatter across an invisible barrier. The archers released another barrage of arrows, only this time fired over the front rank in amongst the more vulnerable Knights of Order. The result was hard to see, but it was likely many were wounded, thought Finn.

Suddenly there was a flash of white light, similar to that of the Spire only less potent. The Crystal Fist had vanished, and they were faced with a charging Force of Order. "They've seen that their protection's no longer helping…" said Adriana. "They'll appear again when we least want them to."

"So," Finn asked Chuana. "What changed your mind? Why are you here now?" He asked this, while still keeping an eye on the enemy force.

"We are here," said Aurig Desha forcing her way towards them "Because the Spire deactivated. Apparently Nerte of Dementia found a way to deactivate the Spire. So, on short notice no new Army of Order can make its way into the Fringe. Small bands may appear, but nothing the size of this horde…" she said, gesturing towards the crawling Ordered Army. Another Golden Saint appeared beside her, and introduced herself as Staada. Staada was the commander of the Auriel force it turned out and, like Chuana wanted no interference in how her forces operated. No surprises there, especially not for the Duke of Dementia…

"So," said Finn. "We stand against Order here now, the armies of Madness…"

He looked forwards at the Ordered Army which rolled like a machine towards them. He wondered what had happened to Nerte. He knew he shouldn't worry – she couldn't die – but he had to admit to himself that he _was _worried. And now he had to add that worry to the worry of facing Order. While their forces now probably matched that of Order he had no way of saying who would most likely win. Order's Knights were inferior. However, Order's Trolls and the Crystal Fist was a match for a large part of the armies of Madness.

"Well at least the odds are even now," observed Na'kynaz from beside him.

"And luck is on our side," replied Adriana.


	31. The Ruin of Xeddefen

**The Ruin of Xeddefen**

* * *

_The ruins of Xeddefen were founded upon an ancient Ordered structure. Its stability was maintained by the steady flow of power through the Spire and the Obelisk. Disrupted, with its flow of energy cut off the stability of the foundations of the ruins is also cut off. The ruins will begin to collapse in on themselves._

_

* * *

_Nerte had stepped backwards, the crystal crumbling to dust. The Priest she'd knocked to the ground had tried to stand again and she'd lashed out with the fist that had held the Shard of Order, catching him on the armoured helmet and whipping his head backwards. She wheeled around to face the remaining four Priests of Order. They looked at her, looking like they were about to charge her, swords waving when the floor shook ominously and the air around her seemed to rumble. The Priests looked around for a moment. There was a crack and everyone looked up. The Priests went to move, but were too slow. Nerte followed the fall of the slab which ended its fall with a squishing noise.

Then Xeddefen shook again, feeling the pain inside it as its lifeblood, magic faded and its foundations began to crumble to subatomic particles. She raced up the stairs, past the frozen Knights who were just beginning to stir again, running under a shower of small stones and rubble. A larger fragment hit her head. _By Sithis, _she thought, _I should have worn my helm…_

The Knights broke free of their spell seconds later and charged after her. She dived sideways to the left, past a falling slab and up the next flight of shaking stairs unscathed. The Knights were not so lucky, two or three being crushed by large blocks of stone as they pursued her.

Sheldon stood from the shadows, perhaps expecting some type of greeting. Nerte raced past him and he took off after her as quickly as he could. He'd felt the rumbling of Xeddefen only seconds before and had wondered what it was… Now he knew.

Cracks opened and widened: tiny at first but then growing larger above them. Nerte looked around and saw that only a small number of Knights still chased them. Her foot caught on a fallen stone and she nearly tripped before she looked back around again. A roar behind them told her that the last Knights were crushed – the passage had collapsed. She ran onwards, not knowing where she was, Sheldon just behind her. A broken statue up ahead had a hollow behind it – she dived into it, wondering how a root tunnel could link to Order… Regardless, it was stable looking at least. Sheldon followed her through and she turned back to the doorway and looked out. No Knights chasing them… and then she leapt backwards as the high roof of Xeddefen collapsed all along the passage in which they had been standing.

Such complete darkness had Nerte not seen since the Shadow reign… Since the banishment Na'graya – of the Mist Wraith. While her nighteyes spell still worked even its magic had difficulty picking out shapes.

She had had no idea that such passages existed within Xeddefen. Rather than architecture the passage seemed to be a root tunnel as created by industrious Grummite tribes.

"Nerte?" moaned Sheldon. "I can't see…"

She moaned as well. His nighteye spell was weaker; it was harder to perform the spell for someone else…_ "Illuminatum,"_ she muttered under her breath. She'd never been good at this spell and the light that lit in her hand was only just enough to light up the passage they stood in. However, even for Sheldon's weaker nighteye spell it would be almost as good as Adriana's. But she hadn't wanted to use a light spell. Anyone could see them coming…

"Thanks," said Sheldon weakly. "Almost panicked there…"

"I though you did," snapped Nerte.

"So where to now?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean, what do we do now?"

"What do you think, you idiot?"

"Don't call the mayor an idiot. I don't know."

_Alright,_ thought Nerte, _this was the point where she wanted someone with half a brain._ "We follow the passage." _Obviously…_

"Do you really think that's a good idea?" asked Sheldon eyeing the dark tunnel boring away through the earth before them.

"Do you really think there is any choice?" she asked in reply.

"Not really, no."

Truthfully, Nerte didn't much like the look of the passage herself. However, there was nowhere better to go. In fact, there was no-were else to go. Where they were she had no idea. They were not in Xeddefen. That much, she was certain of. This structure had still escaped being ordered… To do so it must have considerable magic of its own. Even more than the Fringe had had. It must be an extremely dense pocket of Madness. Her mind could only settle upon one possible location within the Fringe. However, as she reassured herself, her knowledge of the Fringe was not extensive… Her light shining dimly she started up the passage, Sheldon once again trailing after her. A strange wind whooshed past them like an eerie breath.

"What's this?" asked Sheldon abruptly, walking over to the wall.

Her eyes focused on the strange root-like projections he was looking at, and her mind reacted instinctively. _Telemobierte__! _The spell only jerked him backwards fractionally, however it was just enough. The roots writhed suddenly and came to life, sucker like mouths full of tiny sharp teeth coming to bear on him. He stumbled backwards and Nerte grabbed him as he fell. She recognised the root-like things – they were indeed roots, of a type of mushroom tree that liked a little extra protein in its diet.

Quietly, she asked him: "Where could we be, Sheldon of Passwall? What places do you know of in the Fringe that this could be?"

Apparently he'd already been thinking about this. Fear in his eyes, he turned from the monstrous roots writhing on the wall. "There is only one place I know of that this could be."

Cold sank into her with his words. It was as she feared.

"This can only be the Gardens – the Gardens of Flesh and Bone."


	32. Jygga'kai

**Jygga'kai

* * *

  
**

_Leader of the Crystal Fist, Jygga'kai is the most ancient of their kind. He alone has survived from the ancient days of Order, before the coming of Sheogorath, from the ancient wars against Dagon, Azura or Malacath. He is most powerful of the Crystal Fist and if the others are hard to kill, he must be almost invincible, with powers almost equal to that of his master.. Created not from a fabric of Madness, as must his other Knights are, Jygga'kai was created from a truly ordered realm, back in the days when such a thing truly existed.

* * *

  
_

The forces of Order were about to crash into the front rank of Madness when all along the Mazken ranks, who stood before the Auriel, hands lifted. A purple pulse shot out from their hands, a combined telekinesis spell. These spells were not particularly powerful generally, however combined like this they threw the front rank of Order back, crashing into the rank behind them. Auriel lightning flew through gaps in the Mazken formation, scorching Knights.

Finn stood in the Auriel rank, lacking the linked magic all Mazken warriors seemed to learn. Dawnfang felt warm to his grasp. He'd decided to maintain control of it again – however, if the Crystal Fist turned up he'd better let it take over… It fought better than he ever could. Na'kynaz stood to his left, Adriana to his right, and surrounded by his surviving Mazken guard.

The army picked itself up and threw itself at Madness again, spiny grey armor and weapons slicing through air. They crashed into the Mazken, and the Auriel stepped forwards, filling in any gaps and even taking over the front rank. Finn swung Dawnfang with one hand in a long, scything arc, killing two Knights, Dawnfang burning through them with ease. Suddenly, Order was all around.

Finn blinked as a sudden brilliance roared across the battlefield, not the shining white light of Order, but a green burst and a reddish gold burst. Twin Daedric gates opened up behind the Ordered forces. Surprised, Finn looked up momentarily from the battle, and watched as a force of Mazken and Auriel poured out of their respective gates, surprise attacks launching into the rear of Order's force, slicing a spearhead through its ranks before Order could even react. He raised his guard again, blocking a blow that would have split his head open with apparent ease and following the motion through with a fluid motion that left the sword halfway through the Knight.

As if in response to the appearance of yet more Mazken and Auriel there was again a white flash and the Crystal Fist appeared all around the Gates. Lightning flashed around the gates, both friendly and enemy fire. The strike forces were in trouble. There was no way they could hold out against both the Crystal Fist and Order.

The Crystal Trolls hit the front rank of the main army, having loomed up some time before, advancing slowly but unstoppably. If what he'd seen was correct, only his and Adriana's swords could hurt these beasts.

He charged the closest, Na'kynaz and his guard following him closely. As he watched it hurled back a group of warriors, sending them flying with a backhand swing of its club like left arm. He ducked in close and stabbed at it and was pleasantly surprised when Dawnfang burnt through its amour. It spun around, silently and went to club him when a chunk of one of its legs was hacked out from the back. He stabbed at it again as it weathered a cloud of arrows and then Adriana ducked between its legs and thrust her blade into the highest point of its chest she could reach, sending magic flowing down into the blade. Under the combined spells of fire and lightning the troll staggered backwards and collapsed.

"Plenty more," said Adriana, already racing for the nearest Troll. She actually seemed to be enjoying this…

Suddenly there was a crack and another flash of light. One of the Crystal Fist loomed above Finn suddenly; close enough for a sword strike. He was about to strike when a green pulse shot out from Knight, freezing all around.

"Interesting," it boomed. "You are not immobilized as are the others. There is only one who bears the blessing of the Madgod so strongly – Champion of Sheogorath."

Around, all sounds of battle had ceased. It was as if they were trapped in time, the two of them trapped in a world without motion or sound.

"I am Jygga'kai, leader of the Crystal Fist. As you can see, my magic transcends their own greatly. However, apparently not yours. You are closer to the Madgod then he believed, then he could possibly have hoped. So, I am afraid you must die, Finn Cro'hagan."

"Why must Order always burn that which stands before it?" asked Finn angrily. "And if you think I'm just gonna keel over for you you've got another thing coming."

Jygga'kai seemed to sigh, and then spoke once again, "Order does not destroy unthinkingly. All that work with us live. The true question must be why must the world stand before it?"

Even as Jygga'kai strode towards him Finn relaxed his mind. Then, with a fury that was not his Dawnfang saw its opportunity and leapt at it. The sword crashed into Jygga'kai, who raised an arm to deflect the blow. Amazingly, rather then slicing through the arm as Finn had expected, the sword slid off it.

Jygga'kai's arm glowed purple, deflecting the blade. However, apparently he lost his concentration over his time-stop spell because the battle roared back into existence around them again.

A flash of white light later, Finn though Jygga'kai had vanished. When he blinked he saw this was not correct. However, now, he and the again moving Mazken were hemmed in on all sides. Looking past the ranks of Crystal Fist he saw only Order, no banners still flying in the breeze, and the only glint of gold or black coming from the ground. The battle was over. All around him, Mazken charged, and loosed arrows, to no avail.

The Crystal Fist raised their hands. There was no escaping now, not even with Dawnfang.

Then a small voice whispered "Good day" into his ear and he became aware of black tendrils of mist rising around him. Na'kynaz looked behind him, surprised and then comprehension dawned on his face. He grabbed Finn's wrist. Even as he watched lightning being released into the last of the troops around him he was sucked into the spiral of darkness, held by someone from behind and Na'kynaz at his wrist… The darkness closed in…


	33. The Gardens of Flesh and Bone

_Oh damn. Malag Baal has been reading too much Terry Pratchett. Kill me now before I lose my plot. Ahhh…

* * *

_

**The Gardens of Flesh and Bone**

* * *

_The Gardens of Flesh and Bone are Relmyna Verenim's domain. While her lair is Xaselm the "womb" of her famed gatekeeper was the Gardens. This is where she collected the essential ingredients to bind a Flesh Atronach to the superior form of the Gatekeeper. Osseous Marrow, Dermis Membrane, the Essence of Breath and Blood liqueur. Strangers to her realm are not made welcome. More often then not they find their screams carrying away on the cold wind out of Xaselm. However, Sheogorath has tolerated and even enjoyed her presence for centuries as she alone can create him a Gatekeeper at the end of each Greymarch.

* * *

_

Nerte watched her step carefully. This was perhaps an understatement. She watched her step very carefully. There were two ways to walk though the Gardens of Flesh and Bone. Carelessly and dead, or carefully and mostly alive. (The Death of the Isles (Most realms or plains of existence have their own Death, created centuries ago to bring some measure of order to death by Jyggalag himself. However, those in Daedric realms are rarely seen (In fact, they become rather lazy over the millenniums) as true death is so rare) finds the high proportion of Undead annoying. However, as he will be the first to point out when criticized for not cleaning them up, while they might not be alive they are definitely not dead either. they are not _my _problem)

Regardless of what people said about the Undead, Nerte could cope with them. They were generally tough, stupid and slow and a pair of daggers and an assassin style fighting technique (Jump in, stab'em in the back and jump back out again) like her own worked quite effectively against the majority of them. In Tamriel that is. Here the Undead were much faster and agile – Shambles were the slowest of them and even they were damn fast, much faster then your average skeleton. Skinned hounds and Flesh Atronachs were the worst of course.

Flesh Atronachs were in fact not really Undead – they were in fact the fleshy homes of a particularly unpleasant form of Daedra. They were the incarnation of Relmyna's fifth element, the essence of Flesh. While she was not their creator they were her favoured creatures and had aided the first in the Isles with their stitching.

Nerte was watching her step for a number of reasons. These could be listed into categories. A) Nerte had been in a number of such root tunnels and had found that watching one's step was necessary. There was always something nasty around the corner. B) There was generally something nastier waiting to eat the nasty thing as an appetiser. C) Sheldon had stepped in the nastiest of all – an amoebic green blob which glued him to the ground whenever he stood still for too long.

Regardless of the reason, she was watching her step.

She'd been following the wind. She figured she had to follow something and the eerie breeze seemed the sort of thing. Only problem was that they seemed to be going deeper. But, there were no passages leading up other than the one they'd come down so it seemed as good a path as any.

Suddenly she stopped in her tracks and waved a hand to stop Sheldon as well. She didn't want to alert whatever was up ahead. The life signature looked like a Hunger. Just as well: if it had been Undead she'd never have seen it on a life detect spell. He pulled to a stop but not before bumping into her. "What?" he asked loudly. She grimaced. There goes being quiet. Ah well, it had probably already heard us anyway. "A Hunger. Stay still and shut up. I'll deal with it," she said to him, still in a low voice.

Then again, as fast as they were, one Hunger probably wouldn't be a problem. She pulled her fighting daggers from their sheaths and strode to the nearest sharp bend in the corridor, so she could leap out at it before it knew what had hit it. Closer and closer the life signature came. But about five or six metres away it stopped. It howled, a noise like a wolf crossed with a sick Scalon. The echoes rang away through the tunnels, amplified and menacing. She felt suddenly tense, and then remembered why. Hungers were known to hunt in packs. Of some dozens at a time. She sheathed one of her combat daggers and pulled on of the lighter, more balanced throwing daggers from its sheath. She stepped sidled round the corner and as soon as she could see the Hunger threw her dagger. It glanced off the side of its head, apparently stunning it, as it fell to the ground and didn't move. Much anyway. It twitched once or twice.

The next moment a chorus more of the strange howls echoed all around them. Nerte re-set her nighteyes and detect life spells to be prepared for the battle and then turned to Sheldon.

"Here you go," she said, unsheathing one of her longer daggers and holding it out to him hilt first. "I face this way," she said, pointing towards the sounds "and you face that way," she continued, pointing away. "Stab anything that comes at you…. Nothing in here's going to want to help us…"

The Hungers were closer now, closing in all around them. Nerte could just make out the clicking of claws upon the stones littering the tunnel floor. And then she could see the eyes, glowing red in the darkness. Five or six eyes up her tunnel, no doubt more from the other direction… She relaxed and tried to ignore the way Sheldon had backed right up against her… Now there was nothing she could do for him, and for herself she would simply have to hope that the magical field of the Gardens was not too strong to trap her soul and stop her re-birth.

Suddenly the beasts charge, all at once. She sent a dagger spinning at the first, but the others ploughed forwards even as it dropped to the ground. The next closest to her hit her full on and sent her flying, her daggers in opposite directions. She caught a glimpse of Sheldon similarly knocked down before a Hunger loomed over her. She went to pull another dagger from her belt but it grabbed her wrist in a lightning fast and iron strong grip, pinning her hand to the spot.

She had given up breaking free when the Hunger above her looked up from her. It sniffed the air suspiciously and then howled lowly. Seconds later they were gone, vanished without a trace, and no sign that they had ever been there.

She got quickly to her feet and heaved up a heavily breathing Sheldon.

"Come on, let's go…" she said in a low voice. "Those things were running from something, I don't want to wait around to see what…"

But as she went to walk onward she froze, as though caught in an invisible net. Out of the corner of her eye she saw that Sheldon too was frozen. She struggled, once again like against the Hungers. And like against the Hungers she had no luck.

Something appeared in the darkness before them. At first it was just a dark shape, but then in began to unfold. It took on a shape Nerte recognised.

"Well, well, what have we here?" asked a cold, sharp voice.

By Malacath, swore Nerte to herself. We're worse then dead now… Relmyna…


	34. The End is Coming

**"The End is Coming"

* * *

  
**

_The Fringe has always fallen. This is a mighty blow to the defenders of Madness… Suddenly they find themselves falling back into the old rails, the old patterns in which events have always run. The Horde of Order pours through the Gates of Madness which were lost after the Battle of Xeddefen. The end is near…Either the cycle shall be broken soon, or it will run on for another eternity.

* * *

  
_

Mere seconds later Finn felt his feet hit the ground, or rather, the ground hit his feet. Na'kynaz's hand loosened and released from around his wrist, as they both struggled to stay standing for the first seconds. Haskill, apparently not at all affected by the force with which they had landed walked past them, and as Finn looked up from the green carpet of Dementia upon which he had landed Haskill had already re-taken his customary position next to his Lord, Sheogorath.

"It should've worked!" shouted Sheogorath from His throne. "It was new – it was all new, and Order hates change – change above all else – even more than it hates cheese…"

Deciding to ask what was with the cheese later Finn said nothing.

"We've lost now it's fallen back into place – Order's power shall roll forwards across the Isles until the City is lost…"

"My Lord – will not the Daedric armies be re-born?" asked Finn. He'd always seen them as invulnerable armies which upon death would simply return.

"We haven't the time now, Order will be here within days and an entire army would take weeks to return from the Waters of Oblivion… No, my little mortal, we will only have the few troops that Brellach and Pinnacle Rock can re-forge over the next day and those they have stationed here already… mere hundreds. And what size force did we lose to Jyggalag's Crystal Fist already? Even if I could re-muster such a force how could the outcome be any different? No, mortal, the end is comin'. I can feel it."

"But, we still have You – You are a Daedric Prince, like Jyggalag – surely You can help us? Your power must be great as you are one of only sixteen of your kind – You are worshipped even in Tamriel…"

Sheogorath stood, and swung His staff angrily, sparks flying from the wood along its length.

"Ye don't understand, mortal. I can't be here… Soon I will be gone, and me Isles with me…" He stepped down from his throne and stood level with Finn. "Have ye ever heard that I am the youngest of the Princes?" All joy, or even anger seemed to have left Him. "That is because I was created by the Princes. Jyggalag had become destructive even by the standards of Dagon and Peryite… I am the living incarnation of what he hated most of all, which is why I am so different to the rest of the Princes… But worse still…" he continued, "I _am _Jyggalag. We're one, but we're not the same… Soon I will be he and ye will be one your own…"

Finn couldn't believe it. Sheogorath was telling him that the thing he'd been working to defeat for Sheogorath was Sheogorath… _You would be surprised just how much of Sheogorath's magic is also that of Order _– something Nerte had told him that Haskill had said…

"I wanted to give ye me staff… but now it's just a useless twig, the power drained from it. I needed more time… My plan was to give ye me power, to make you a Daedric Prince to stand against me in my own Hall… I did not want to see Jyggalag flatten all again."

"It's still possible though. To win, I mean. Haskill will guide ye though it. He'll follow your orders, or you rip of his head…" Sheogorath couldn't even muster up a cackle for his own comment. "Order now grows within me, can ye not tell? I am unnaturally sober, don't ye think? Goodbye little mortal… Finn, the Mortal who could have been Me…"

As he finished there was suddenly a blast of blinding white light which swept across the room. In the space of time of the flash Sheogorath changed, becoming all angles and doubling in size, seeming to fill the room. For a second, no more, Finn was aware of the new shape which replaced Sheogorath's. A titan of crystal, at least three times taller than Sheogorath had been, a truly ancient being.

And then it was all gone, and all that remained was a rush of air, only noticeable in the still of the Hall of Madness which replaced the space where Jyggalag had stood.

For seconds all was silent, time apparently frozen. The spell broke when Sheogorath's staff hit the ground. It clattered onto the ground and the noise echoed around the room. Finn slowly walked forwards and picked it up from where it lay. It's smooth wood was warm to touch but even as he held it, it felt colder. The power was draining from it…

He felt a hand on his shoulder and he stood, holding the staff still. "My Lord" said Haskill quickly. "It is still possible to hold the Throne of Madness and save the Isles. But we must act quickly. As Sheogorath himself pointed out before He," Haskill paused, searching for words, "changed, it is possible if the staff is restored to power."

"I must take you to Dunroot Hollow. There you will find a man named Dyus, and as far as I know, he alone can tell you what we need to know, how to restore the staff of Sheogorath to its former power… I am afraid though that I cannot accompany you. I must stay here and cover for Sheogorath – panic will reign supreme if people realised that the end was nearly upon us…"

"Alright, I'm going." He said this with a number of very large regrets – the primary one was that in reality he wasn't sure he wanted to take Sheogorath's place, even if it were possible. He turned to leave, but then paused, and turned back to face the bald man once more. "One favour though – Go find Nerte, would you?" Before Haskill could argue he continued, "Oh, come on, it wouldn't take much of your time and she could help… I thought you had to follow my orders now?"

Haskill glared at him angrily. However, knowing that his orders _were_ to follow Finn's orders he made up his mind, vanishing into a puff of black mist.


	35. Xaselm

_

* * *

_

**Xaselm**

* * *

_Xaselm. A place of darkness and danger, the haunt of Relmyna Verenim, a crypt of Undead, a tomb of black things. She herself is not dead, but she may as well be. She is second in power in the Isles only to Sheogorath himself, and has only been kept in check by his power of the many years. She herself has withstood the Greymarch for centuries, concentrating the focus of her power on Xaselm and the Gardens of Flesh and Bone, both of which become sanctuaries for the darker powers of the Isles during a Greymarch.

* * *

_

Nerte watched as Sheldon attempted to break free of the invisible bonds holding them. She had given up on that, hours ago now, knowing that unless Relmyna forgot about them completely for some reason, the bonds of telekinesis would hold them as tightly as any iron would. She had said she would "get around to them" and Nerte had no doubts she'd be true to her word.

They had been carried from the Gardens of Flesh and Bones on some form of teleport portal. Nerte had always wondered how she'd never been where she was supposed to be… (Years ago, despite Sheogorath's approval of Relmyna's activities he'd decided that a good raid on Xaselm every now and then would serve both to keep Relmyna on her toes and to provide training for his troops. He also liked to annoy Relmyna.)

And now they lay in some cage in Xaselm. Nerte remembered all too much of Xaselm. Relmyna managed to make Sheogorath to appear to have both a great respect for life and a firm grasp on his sanity. It was quite impressive really, if you went for the mental.

Regardless, Nerte couldn't even hope for death here. Undead did not mean dead. She'd met a couple of other Seducers who'd been Undead for a couple of thousand years – she could honestly say she didn't think it seemed a good career path. Not that they'd chosen it of course. The best you could hope for was an adventurer with a magic blade, or a Greymarch.

Relmyna appeared. Not in flash of back mist as did Haskill, but in reddish, bloody looking haze. True to nature.

"So, a Mazken and a Redguard in my sanctuary…?" It was both a statement and a question. She spoke coldly, her words flowing from her lips.

"I would have killed you instantly but for the mark of Sheogorath upon you, Nerte of Pinnacle Rock. I rather avoid direct conflict with the Madgod. It is not wise to anger him. Thus, while I will not release you, at least not now, I will not involve you in my experiments. Yet."

She turned to go, and only stopped when her ears were met with a low, hissing sound. She spun around on the spot.

"Haskill!" she spat out. "How dare you enter Xaselm without permission!" She glared with apparent loathing at the small, bald man before her. He shrugged and raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"Relmyna, would you rather I left now and let Sheogorath deal with you? I have come for the one bearing Sheogorath's mark. You were clear enough about it a moment ago…"

"What?! How long have you been here, you ancient scum?" she demanded angrily.

"No longer than yourself, my dear. We _were _afterall created at the same time. You and I, the Verenims. The most powerful beings in the Isles, short of Sheogorath of course."

He stopped speaking, as a large black undead bird of some description fluttered tattily through the hall behind Relmyna. Her eyes widened slightly as it communicated some type of message to her, or as she wrenched it from its mind. Her face tightened back into a mask as she spoke again. "So, Haskill Verenim. Sheogorath no longer sits upon his throne. The end is upon us. I no longer have to even listen to you. Leave my halls this instant!"

Haskill's eyes narrowed. "Without Sheogorath I can fight you to the death at will. Do you really wish to take that risk as my equal?"

"You are not my equal!" she shouted angrily.

Purple mist gathered around her fists, and in response, a similar magic flowed from Haskill. Nerte watched in amazement as the tiny man she had never seen attack anything prepared to fight Relmyna Verenim, the Queen of the Dead.

The haze of magic roared within the confines of the dungeon, and was suddenly unleashed. But even as Relmyna's magic tore through the space that Haskill had been seconds before, he was already repositioning himself for another strike. He had dodged hers. She had weathered his.

Again they struck at each other, this time their magic colliding and fusing with almost blinding effects. When the light faded again, both stood firm.

"Surely, Relmyna, such power would be better spend against Jyggalag…?"

"Madness!" she roared. "Jyggalag cannot be defeated…"

"Madness is the purpose of the Isles, you of all people should understand that… Understand, Relmyna, I came here not to fight you, but to take Nerte at the command of Finn Cro'hagan. He who will be our God! By Dagon, respect his wishes and allow us a chance to end the conflict! Surely, even you tire of having to re-build your empire from the few scraps you are able to hide away within this sanctuary. I know I tire within the Gate Realm…"

Relmyna stood back, momentarily. Clearly she disliked the idea of angering the future Sheogorath, regardless of his current status. Finally, she spoke. "Take them if you must… And Haskill? End this if you can…"

Haskill vanished momentarily and then re-appeared behind the bars, with Nerte and Sheldon. Nerte, suddenly finding herself able to move again, grabbed the offered arm.

The three of them flew away into the darkness of the void.


	36. Space and Time, Madness and Order

**Space and Time, Madness and Order

* * *

**

_Dunroot Hollow is what remains of the most favoured of Jyggalag's constructions, a ruined a broken shadow of what was originally one of his greatest achievements. It is what remains of his great library, the library of Order, where all knowledge was held. It contained another type of Magic, one that relied upon the repetition of events. It is whispered among some groups, particularly the heretics that the Arch Librarian Dyus still resides there although if that is so, why Sheogorath had not destroyed him long ago is a mystery. Perhaps the Jyggalag within him cannot bring himself to do it.

* * *

_

Finn stood at the tunnel entrance, with Na'kynaz beside him. It was nearly dark already, seeing as it had taken him some time to reach this place and then he had had difficulty finding it, and the directions from a small group of locals hadn't been particularly useful, describing the location as near a large clump of mushroom trees and, quite seriously, where in the Isles was_ not_ near a large clump of mushroom trees? Why were there no horses in the Shivering Isles? Honestly, it took hours to get anywhere, hours more than it would by horse. Then again, only the Mazken and Auriel really seemed to travel anywhere and they could jog for days on end, or at least it seemed that way…

_Finn… _

The voice startled him, a tired voice, making him jump.

"What is it?" asked Na'kynaz.

The Demora glared at him in a particular way, which Finn had come to interpret as _questioningly_.

"Nothing…" he replied. "Nothing at all."

It had been a voice on the wind. He looked around, straining his eyes against the setting sun. No-one was around. At least, not so far as he could tell. Just because he couldn't see anything, did not mean that nothing could see him. Not for the first time in the last hour, he wished Haskill would hurry up. He wanted the comfort of Nerte's eyes, telling him nothing was around. The Isles were too full of surprises for his liking. He put his hand to his back. There, alongside Duskfang, was another burden he had no real wish to carry. _The Staff of Sheogorath._

"Wait here…" he said to Na'kynaz.

"But…"

"Just wait," he said again. Na'kynaz glared at him again, but then sat down heavily on a mushroom tree root.

Sighing, Finn pulled a torch from his pack and lit it. The flickering flame lit a small area around him, warding off the shadows of the tunnel entrance, but barely. He stepped forwards, crouching down slightly, the roof just too low to stand. Darkness closed in around.

_Finn…_

The root tunnel widened out around him, until he longer had to bow his head. He waved the torch before him, fighting back shadows. The shadows of Dunroot hollow fought back. He walked quickly, hoping to reach Dyus as quickly as possible, following his feelings and the barely audible whisper of his name upon the breeze. Finn's feet suddenly sounded loud upon the ground. Looking down, he saw a stone floor, further ahead the tunnel widened yet further as the roots opened up into a stone passageway. Lined with Obelisks of order, and shining crystals it seemed as Ordered as anything he had seen in the Fringe. His boots made the same crunching noise as he ground tiny crystals beneath his feet. Onwards, as if called forwards he walked.

To a blank wall. As if he had been here before though, Finn pulled the Staff of Sheogorath from his back and thrust if forwards. It cleaved cleanly through the rock crystal wall and punched through to open air on the other side. The crystal evaporated, as if flinching back from being tainted by madness, pulling away and leaving an oval shaped opening which Finn would be able to step through easily.

"Well done," said the voice. Straining his eyes, Finn was able to pick out a shadowy figure seated in a throne of crystal. Stepping forwards, the torchlight bathed the figure in light and Finn flinched. Dyus was human… mostly. His skin was the colour of ancient stone and moss grew across him in some patches. Finn would not have believed him to be alive if he had not just spoken.

"Welcome to Dunroot Hollow." The voice was bitter, and sarcastic and cold as the rocks into which he changed. "Great repository of knowledge and power of the God Jyggalag. Everything that has every happened has been recorded here Finn Cro'hagan. I understand it all. All of this has happened before, and all of this will happen again. Only you feel different. You have broken the cycle's consistency, and I have been unable to predict your actions. You are a crack in time, the broken one who has no place in space nor time. You are neither Order nor Madness, yet you fight for one. You take the place of one who does not exist. You force the universe to revolve around you… You are impossible, implausible, a flaw in the calculations."

"Why, thanks. I'm not sure how to take all that," said Finn, a grimace upon his face. "I have come to…"

"I know why you have come, Bringer of Chaos. You come to learn of how to take the throne of Madness, to take up the essence of Madness and turn the tide against Order. I will tell you, as you are intriguing. I no longer truly serve Jyggalag, as he no longer truly exists. Sheogorath has never existed. To you, however, I will tell this."

Dyus frowned and continued, "You have come for nothing. To reactivate the staff, and gain the powers of the Madgod all that is required is to dip it into the Font of Madness."

Finn's grimace widened. "The Font of Madness in the Throne room?"

"Indeed."

"I was just there." His anger grew, but not with Dyus. "It's just that simple? Surely Haskill could have told me that…?"

"I will tell you one more thing…" said Dyus, interrupting him. "If you wish to break the cycle, you must be quick. Jyggalag lays siege to Crucible and Bliss even as we speak. While it is not yet too late, it soon will be."

"Why are you telling me this?" asked Finn.

"I wish it to end. If you act soon, either I will cease to be, or I will re-join my Lord in power. I have waited for countless years. Too long to wait a year more than I must. I dread to endure another cycle. If you, Finn Cro'hagan, cannot break the cycle, you, outside of the laws of the universe, then no one ever will. Go, with my blessing. I care not who wins, just bring about the end… The end of all things."


End file.
